16: Exiled Lord — Chapter 16 – The Grand Winery, First Stronghold 16: Exiled Lord — Chapter 16 – The Grand Winery,
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“My lord, why do you look so troubled?” Ashina sidled closer with her bow in her arms, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
“Getting here was the hardest part.
Why pull that face only now?” Field waved her off.
He had no interest in spreading anxiety and eroding what little confidence his people had left.
He put on a teasing grin and reached out to pinch Ashina’s wolf ears.
“Not troubled.
I’m just debating whether to personally give my hardworking, high-merit champion a massage.” “Wh— wait—” Ashina’s face went scarlet in an instant, her red eyes trembling like she’d felt a tremor.
She fumbled to respond, then caught Field’s expression.
That look he wore when he was teasing a child.
She understood.
Her cheeks puffed out.
“My lord is too much!
I was actually worried about you.
I’m done talking to you.” Field patted his aching neck.
“I appreciate the concern.
But we need to find a place to bunk down.
I’m done sleeping in that carriage, another second of that creaking is going to split my skull.” They needed to take a building.
Walls and a roof would make a world of difference, even if everything out here had been corrupted half to ruin.
He studied the map carefully, then said, “We’re taking the Grand Winery.
The main structure is brick and stone, Ashina, it won’t have dissolved into rubble.” The Grand Winery sat to the southeast of the main building, surrounded by wide stretches of farmland once used to grow Black Pearl grapes for winemaking.
The vineyards were long gone, of course.
What filled the fields now were masses of writhing black tentacles and Rotten Corpses.
Grapevines and rotting trellises were still faintly visible through the mess, this land had once produced the Empire’s most celebrated Black Pearl wine.
“Women, clear the farmland.
Don’t leave a scrap of filth behind.” Field kicked aside a corrupted lump of flesh sprouting seven or eight eyes.
“These squirming tentacles and hunks of meat look horrifying, but they’re not dangerous.
These disgusting things were all cute little animals before the Death Smog rolled in.” “Yes, my lord.” The slaves shuffled and stalled.
“Finish within two days and I’ll pay ten copper coins per person as wages.
This land is going to be our food supply.” Field played his trump card, the permission for slaves to own money.
Their eyes lit up.
Hands and feet suddenly found their purpose.
Farm tools swung, corrupted creatures died, and work efficiency multiplied tenfold.
Steward Perry watched and rolled his eyes.
“Only the Master would be so merciful and generous.
If these mud-legged bumpkins refuse to work, hanging them would be quicker.” That was when the free folk Field had recruited pushed forward. Read this novel at novelping . com for the best experience.
“My lord, aren’t you being unrealistic?” one of the villagers said.
“The land has been poisoned.
Even if you kill every last monster, you still can’t farm it.” He stamped his foot hard for emphasis.
The soft, rotten earth caved inward, leaving a footprint pooled with purple liquid.
“See?
It’s a toxic swamp.
And that smell, God, it’s worse than a widow’s unwashed crotch after three years.” The slaves glanced over, eyebrows raised.
My generosity, Field noted, seems to have given certain people ideas.
His eyelids lowered.
His voice came out flat, without a ripple of feeling.
“That is my order.
I am not asking for your input.” The villagers, minds still half-pledged to Baron Bull, hadn’t fully pivoted yet.
“But, my lord, this is completely pointless.” “Hm?” Field’s brow tightened.
His eyes went cold.
Wildcat and the guards drew their blades in a single sweep.
Steel rang from scabbards, sharp and clean.
Connor and his people had been the real muscle on the road here, but the slave guards had been tempered too.
They stood with the faint killing edge of men who’d learned what soldiers were.
The flash of steel reached the villagers before anything else did.
It hit them all at once, they were questioning their new lord.
Every one of them broke into a cold sweat and dropped to the ground.
Silence sat over the scene for half a minute.
Then Field waved his hand.
It wasn’t about throwing his weight around or playing the feudal tyrant.
He had no foundation here.
In this land far removed from any order, if he couldn’t hold these people in line, he might as well stop calling himself a lord and go find a beam to hang himself from.
“You’ll join the clearing effort.
The eastern fields are yours.” He paused.
“And whoever called my plans fanciful, go take five lashes.” A small punishment, a large lesson.
He needed them for both pioneering and farming.
The villagers were already soaked through.
Hearing that, they looked like men who’d just been pulled off the gallows.
“Yes.
Yes.
Of course.
Yes.” Everyone spread out and began rooting out the corruption.
The disturbed creatures released a chorus of high, piercing shrieks.
“This place is way too Cthulhu.” Field sucked in several sharp breaths, nausea rolling through him.
“We have to get civilization started fast.
The winery first.” Two peasants with torches pulled open the winery’s main doors.
A wall of dark, rotten stench blasted out.
Field nearly brought up last night’s dinner.
He slapped a hand over his mouth and nose and turned his face aside.
“Careful.” Ashina showed no reaction to the smell at all.
Slave life had introduced her to worse.
“Lots of movement on the second floor.” “We need to hold this building, and there may be flammable material inside.
No fire.” Ashina nodded, bright and ready.
“Leave it to me!” Field raised an iron-banded shield to cover his chest and drew his longsword.
“Pikes up.
Brace for the charge.” No formal training behind them, but days of fighting had taught the guards something.
A small square formation locked into shape fast enough.
Field took a breath and slammed his sword pommel against his shield.
“Hey!
Neighbors!
Community outreach, we’re bringing warmth!” “ROAR!” The darkness erupted in howls and wails.
Footsteps pounded like drumbeats.
Disfigured, twisted shapes burst from the black, and then the crash of flesh against steel became everything.
Ashina and her wolf held the main press of the corpse horde by themselves.
Her spear reaped Rotten Corpses in smooth, practiced strokes.
The giant wolf was a tank, buried under so many bodies it had become a writhing ball of corpses, and its defense still hadn’t cracked.
If Field hadn’t forbidden the Dragon-seed Wolf from breathing fire, the fight would already be over.
“Goddess above!” A front-line guard ran a Rotten Corpse through and took the impact, stumbled, couldn’t recover, and the next wave hit him.
He went down in a crash of armor, sprawled and dazed.
Field stepped forward half a pace and brought his longsword down hard onto the nearest Rotten Corpse’s skull.
This wasn’t an anime.
There was no darkness-fueled power boost.
Rotten Corpses were just monsters wearing human skin.
No armor, no protection, the blade passed through sinew and bone without resistance.
The head came clean off.
“Th— thank you, my lord!” The guard stared up with wide, terrified eyes.
His pants were warm and wet.
He’d come within a breath of a passionate reunion with that thing’s face.
The look on him, the look of a man who wanted to kneel and call Field his father, made it clear he had never, in his entire life, felt this much genuine respect for a noble.
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