Compatriots
Lansius enjoyed his late lunch in peace, undisturbed by the shouting from the staff in the neighboring warehouse. He filled his thick bread with ham and cheese, then offered half to the lone worker who had helped him.
The man accepted it with warm enthusiasm. “Gratitude, master.”
“Eat well, my good man,” Lansius said casually.
The man was baffled by the kind treatment but ate heartily.
Lansius took out Stefi’s wineskin from his bag, poured a bit into his half-filled water cup, and offered it to the man. The worker didn’t refuse the offer, as he was just trying to make a living. “Gratitude,” he said again, gulping it down.
Lansius wasn’t trying to bribe him with food, as that would be impossibly difficult. Instead, he struck up a conversation. “So, how many years have you worked here?”
“Since the young lord was still a toddler,” the worker recalled.
“Must be more than a dozen years. How much do they pay you?”
The man chuckled and rubbed his coarse facial hair. “Too little.”
“A copper and two?” Lansius guessed.
His lips formed a small grin. “Master, if you know, why ask?”
“I don’t. I’m new here, and they won’t tell me anything. Tell me, how much does a staff member like me make?” Lansius asked, offering him two pieces of berries.
The worker took the fruit, looked at Lansius, and said, “I heard from a drunken staff member that he got four copper a day.”
About the same. Mine was six copper on campaign, probably four copper during peacetime.
“And how much for a new staff that works in the warehouse?” Lansius inquired.
“Unfortunately, a lot less,” he said apologetically.
Not if I can help it . . .
“Tell you what,” Lansius began. “I’m only here because the Captain said so. Once things return to normal, I believe I’ll be recalled to Lord Arte’s side.”
The mention of the young lord widened the man’s eyes. “You’re part of the young lord’s retinue?” He looked Lansius over again and gave a slow nod, recalling the squire in black gambeson at his side. “Then I wish you fortune, master. Your stay here may prove unpleasant.”
“Why is that?” Lansius asked, masking his eagerness.
The man looked around and whispered, “The one who runs this place is a bit odd in the head.”
Lansius snorted. “I have the same opinion.”
The two shared a laugh.
Stefi, who had been out, appeared at the warehouse entrance and walked briskly toward Lansius, damp with sweat from her work. Lansius rose and quickly offered her a jug of water, which she took and drank without hesitation.
“Did you get it?” Lansius asked.
“Keith drove a hard bargain, but your note saved the day.”
Lansius was pleased to hear that. He had sent Stefi to Keith with two pieces of high-quality clothing from the wardrobe in his chamber. Still, the tailor was never going to offer a good price so easily. Knowing that, Lansius had written a note saying he still had plenty more and would sell to someone else if the offer was not acceptable. It was a bluff, but it forced Keith into a dilemma: either give him a fairer deal or lose the chance for profit. As it turned out, that was enough to persuade him to settle on an acceptable price of three copper per piece.
“He wouldn’t give me socks as a bonus like you asked, but he gave me these.” Stefi pulled out two simple woolen caps.
Lansius was amused. “Keith was a tough nut.”
“But you cracked him good. I’ve never seen him give that much ground before," said Stefi, impressed.
Lansius gestured for Stefi to take a seat on the clean crate, and she did so, resting her legs from the return trip. Meanwhile, Lansius checked the woolen cap, finding it worn and yellowish, but clean and dry. He offered it to the lone worker.
“Monsieur, I can’t accept this,” he said, seeming half embarrassed and half fearful, perhaps because of Lansius’s earlier announcement that he was part of the young lord’s retinue.
“What’s your name?” Lansius asked.
“Wade, master.”
Lansius crouched down and placed one of the caps in Wade’s hand. “Nice to know you. I’m Lansius, but you can call me Lans.”
Wade clenched the head cap. “Well met, Master Lans.”
Lansius returned to the crate and sat as if addressing his subject. “Wade, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About how things might be unpleasant for me.”
Wade nodded in understanding. Lansius continued, “I want to make my stay here as bearable as possible. Can you help with that?”
The man furrowed his brow. “But how are you going to do it?”
A faint smile touched Lansius’s lips. “Tomorrow, bring a friend,” he said, pinching another woolen cap between his fingers. “If you bring more, I can part with a few iron coins, provided they’re strong, eager, and quick.”
Wade smirked in understanding. “I know some friends. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, then. Now, let’s wrap up and call it a day,” Lansius said cheerfully.
“But it’s barely past midday, Master Lans,” Wade said, finding it odd.
Lansius glanced at him. “Well, it’s useless with just us. I want you fresh for tomorrow.”
Wade nodded happily, grateful to have found a benevolent staff member who was understanding and not stingy with his purse.
...
The following day, after a good night’s sleep, Lansius arrived at his section of the warehouse to find five men already working. Stefi had yet to arrive, but he didn’t mind.
“Morning, master Lans,” Wade greeted him, while the rest dipped their heads slightly in respect.
“Morning, Wade. You’re working early today.”
Wade and the men shared thin smiles and quiet chuckles, pleased by Lansius’s down-to-earth manner, so unlike the other staff. “Are these men enough for you, master?”
“Only if they’re as good as you said,” Lansius replied. “I can give three iron coins per person, to be paid each evening. I’ll allow you to return to your original post, so as not to offend the senior staff, but try to return when you can; otherwise, I can only give two iron.”
The men quickly understood and exchanged sly grins among themselves. Three iron coins weren't much, but it was fair extra pay, enough to make them willing to join in.
Lansius added, “Let’s keep this a secret between us, lest the acting head clerk causes us problems.”
“There won’t be any,” Wade replied with confidence.
Lansius pulled a woolen cap from his bag and gave it to Wade. “Foreman Wade. Reward this to whomever you please.”
With that, Lansius effectively established a hierarchy and command structure. While the ones who ultimately paid for the workers was the office, by using bonuses or bribes, he made them more inclined to work for him instead of the other staff. Soon, things progressed smoothly despite the inevitable mishaps and snags that accompanied untangling such a large mess.
***
Master Hubert
In just three days, the warehouse had visibly changed. Master Hubert had heard the rumors but could not spare the time to see it for himself. He was far too occupied sorting through the city’s administrative records. The young lord needed answers on several matters, among them how much tax revenue could be expected from the region and whether the stores on hand would be enough to feed both his army and the returning populace until next year’s harvest.
Today, Vince had brought him another piece of that answer, bringing him one step closer to completing his report and securing his future position.
To Hubert, the warehouse issue seemed minor. He could not be bothered with it until Vince pointed the record out to him again.
“Yes, I read that. Did you want more praise?” Hubert scolded Vince from his cushioned seat behind a large mahogany table.
Master, a confession,” Vince said, earning a stare. “I did write that, but the calculation was the new clerk’s doing.”
Hubert’s gaze narrowed, but Vince did not back down. That prompted the eccentric old man to ask, “Are you implying that the new clerk works at noon in the warehouse and calculates records at night? Does he not need sleep?”
“Oh, I checked. The light in his room faded before midnight,” Vince clarified.
“Then how is it possible . . ." Hubert glanced at the report again, then mulled, "Unless he’s really good with numbers."
Vince nodded. “His writing is near illegible, but his calculations were spot-on.”
The acting head clerk grew suspicious. “Then why report this to me instead of using it to your own advantage?”
“Because the new clerk is simply too good. I fear everyone will want his help too.”
Hubert chuckled, understanding that Vince wanted to keep the new clerk to himself. “What are you proposing?
The younger man did not hesitate. “Give him a chamber and put him to work. Let us be the only two with access to him.”
Hubert’s lips curved slightly. “You have my blessing. Arrange it.”
***
Lansius
A few weeks had passed, and the frigid winds and snow that had held Riverstead City in their grip finally dissipated. Warmer air from the western sea quickly brought changes to the landscape. The snow thawed, rivers flowed once more, and the grasslands and tree lines sprang back to life.
Despite the muddy roads and persistent drizzle, refugees began to flock back to the city. The first week of spring saw Riverstead come alive with bustling markets and ongoing repairs throughout the city. There were even talks of spring festivals and victory celebrations.
As the city returned to normalcy, Lansius continued working alone in a small study. As he had planned, Hubert finally accepted him as a fully-fledged clerk with all its benefits. He was assigned to the third floor, just at the far end from his room.
Hubert through Vince kept supplying Lansius with endless calculation work, ranging from minor purchases for kitchen supplies to various taxes received by the city. Dark shadows circled Lansius’s eyes, and he yawned at random intervals. However, the cause of his sleep deprivation was not work-related.
While he feigned naivety around Hubert and Vince, Lansius was well aware that working too quickly could lead to exhaustion. Since he was paid by the day rather than by the task, he deliberately paced himself. Sometimes he would double-check his work, at other times he would study the documents on hand. However, his favorite diversion was reading books under the guise of studying.
The municipal office didn’t have a proper library, but Lansius had discovered two old, leather-bound history books. While they read like children’s stories—filled with tales of creation and heroism—he found them captivating. He was particularly intrigued by accounts of elves, dwarves, and half-humans, as well as their legendary deeds.
He also came across an old, incomplete report about the Mage Guild, which detailed its founding, headquarters, and objectives. This gave him something to discuss with his fellow clerks, usually Vince. From these conversations, Lansius learned that mages were rare. Even Lord Maurice only employed one.
Aside from mages, there were also saint candidates, said to possess the ability to heal. Lansius was skeptical, considering them to be physicians at best, if not mere shamans.
There were a lot of mysteries in this world, and he had to admit that he was rather excited with the possibility that magic was real. This fueled him to read as much as he could during the daytime, and by the dim light of his rushlight, he continued his reading well after sunset.
This passion for reading led to his peers respecting him, mistaking his haggard looks as proof of his hard work.
...
While working in his study, Lansius was alerted by a sudden knock. “Who—”
Before he could complete his sentence, a woman in a black gambeson barged in. Lansius recognized her and went on with his work as if nothing had happened, or else he would forget the calculation in his head.
Stefi took the only other seat, slouched, and muttered, “Ah, it’s much cooler in here.”
“Well, it is on the third floor,” he replied briefly.
She noticed a plate with a slice of spiced ham, beans, and hard bread on the table. “Oh, Jan has made his rounds?”
“Yeah, not long ago. Help yourself,” he said, without losing focus on his parchment and wax tablets.
“They’ll discipline a squire like me if I ate before the master,” she joked.
He snorted but remained focused. Meanwhile, Stefi picked up the only cup on the table and drank from it without a thought. That simple act broke Lansius’s concentration.
Her lips . . . on my cup.
“Ah, it’s refreshing,” she exclaimed.
He quickly pushed aside the inappropriate thought, one that had been surfacing more and more often. Being apart had only made his attraction to her worse. “It’s just water,” he said after collecting himself.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, then reached for the fastenings on the lower part of her gambeson.
Lansius’s eyes widened at once, his mind leaping to the wrong conclusion.
She pulled out a small package from inside. “Hehe, a present for graduating from that warehouse.”
Lansius let out a breath of relief, then took the package and unwrapped it. “A belt. Oh, you didn’t have to.”
“Go on, test it,” urged Stefi.
Lansius stood and approached her, trying on the new belt by wrapping it around his waist. However, he had never worn a sword belt before and soon grew confused. Stefi stepped in and tied the ring belt for him. With her help, the sword belt sat snugly and properly around his waist.
“So, this is how you wear one.” He moved about to appreciate the look, before turning to Stefi. “You’re very good at this.”
She chuckled at his remark. “Lans, I’m a squire. That’s what I do for a living.”
Lansius realized his error and grinned sheepishly. Indeed, a squire’s primary job was to help their knight don their gear.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Of course. But are you sure it’s not pricey?”
“Don’t fret. You need it. The old one is worn out.” She added, “Next is a sword and shoes.”
He found her enthusiasm amusing. “I still think a clerk doesn’t need a sword.”
He held back from mentioning the crossbow. He had a feeling that, if he did, she might spend her own money on it.
Stefi only shrugged and poured another cup of water while Lansius returned to his seat. A moment later, he reached into the bottom cabinet and brought an earthen jar and a bronze goblet to the table.
“What’s that for?” she asked, nodding toward the jar and goblet.
Lansius smiled as he poured the contents generously into the goblet. The rich aroma had a hint of honeyed sweetness.
“It’s mead. Where did you get it?” She became excited.
“One of Wade’s men broke an amphora, so all of them got their pay docked. I felt pity and helped out a little.”
She whistled. “Must be expensive.”
“Yeah, but I got this in return. So drink up and enjoy it.” He handed her the goblet, filled with the golden mead.
She gulped it with a big grin on her face.
Her reaction brought a smile to his face. “Hey, wanna go out for lunch?” Lansius asked.
“If you insist,” Stefi replied, putting a smile on Lansius’s face. He wanted to visit Keith’s shop again to look for gifts for Marc, Tanya, and Arryn. His campaign money was yet to be distributed, but that didn’t deter his eagerness to browse around.
...
Another day came to an end in Riverstead, and the sky quickly darkened. Weary men made their way back to their quarters. Lansius did the same. After spending much of the day in the market, he was too tired to stay up reading and chose to rest instead. Tomorrow, he meant to start early.
The plan did not last.
“Master Lansius!” came a frantic knock at the door.
Waking with a start and still heavy-eyed, Lansius forced himself across the dark room and opened the door just a little, peering into the pitch-black hallway. Only the dim light of a servant’s lantern illuminated their surroundings. “Jan?”
The boy looked distraught. “Some people are leaving the city in a hurry,” Jan whispered frantically. “Master Hubert and Vince too. Wade saw them packing goods onto a fast carriage.”
Lansius’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of why Hubert left, along with Vince.
Embezzlement? No, the old crook is far too eccentric for that, and Vince collects wages for doing nothing.
There was only one possibility left: war.
“Quick, help me pack my things,” Lansius said, rushing over to the cabinet and flinging its contents aside. He knew he was probably too late, but he didn’t need to outsmart anyone—just enough to get himself out of harm’s way.
***