The Grayfang tribute was coming due this month. Nordrstjarna buzzed as Snoutlings shouted outside, counting the pelts in the warehouses. The household staff took notes and matched them with Grommo’s.
It’d been a while, but we were short last time we did a wall-to-wall inventory.
I paced back and forth across my hall, bracing myself for another confrontation with Rurik, when my chest tightened, and I froze in the middle of the room.
I didn’t have a single card left to play back then. The dread and the hopelessness I felt still haunted me every other day.
If it wasn’t for that lieutenant…
He staked his life on my word. I got goosebumps all over again.
No one ever did anything like that for me, especially not a stranger who owed me nothing. There was the business in the ravines and all, but I was just doing my job as per our agreement.
Then he did the thing when I bowed…
I blushed despite myself.
Why did I want to pinch a werewolf’s cheeks? He was massive.
What if we fail to deliver the whole tribute and Rurik punishes him for it? Oh no…
I resumed my pacing, faster this time.
Predslava’s voice rang out somewhere.
Then again—
“KAT!”
I jumped, startled. She was right by my side.
“All this walking around won’t make more pelts show up, you know?” she said. “You should relax a bit. I think they are almost done counting.”
“Sorry.” I walked to my chair and sat down.
The household staff entered the hall with Grommo. Village chiefs joined us shortly after. They usually didn’t come with the monthly tribute, busy with their responsibilities, but today was the day.
The two groups greeted each other warmly, as the Snoutlings in general seemed to hold the chiefs in high regard.
Grommo stepped forward. “We’re ready, Chieftain.”
I took a deep breath. “How bad is it?”
He checked the parchment. “May I round it down for simplicity?”
“Shoot...”
“Forty thousand pelts.”
My vision blurred as I grew dizzy. “Argh. I can’t believe—”
Then I realized.
“Wait. What did you say?”
He blinked repeatedly, confused. “Forty thousand pelts. Rurik’s tribute is only thirty thousand.”
“Holy—” I slammed the chair arm despite myself, then covered my mouth, embarrassed as they stared at me. “Sorry. Are you sure?”
Grommo nodded. “We counted the warehouses twice.”
Mogg stepped forward. “Production stabilized after the founding of the villages—we’re back to where we were when the tribes were scattered. Our new roads are keeping transportation losses low as well.”
“Are you okay, Chieftain? You seem pale.”
“Yes, I’m just… stunned. In a good way.”
They smiled.
“What should we do about the surplus?” Grommo asked.
Even if we couldn’t get the full six silver for each, ten thousand pelts were a lot of money. Of course, they weren’t mine to hoard.
That’d be the fairest solution, but I had a selfish idea.
“Send the pelts to Bjornhavn for Umma to get the best deal for them,” I said.
“Alright.” Grommo nodded. “I’ll separate a room in the palace for a state treasury—”
I shook my head. “Not for me. I want you to redistribute the earnings among the villages based on their contribution. Don’t forget to give Umma a commission.”
The room fell quiet.
“That’s your tribute, Chieftain…” a village chief said. “Are you sure?”
“More than sure. You guys deserve every penny.”
This would inject a lot of currency into our economy straight away, and now that we were linked to Bjornhavn’s market, I had high hopes that things would pick up on their own. So, it was selfish, at the end of the day—just long-term selfishness.
A village chief turned around in silence. Then another.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, startled.
My heart sank as the whole room turned its back on me.
“It was just an idea, folks!” I flailed my arms. “I take back what I said; you can return the pelts—”
“The idea is good, Chieftain.” Grommo rubbed his face. “I just got something in my eye.”
“Yeah, me too, like a big splinter,” a household staff member said. “It might take a while for it to come out…”
The room nodded in agreement, then I heard quiet sobbing.
I leaned back with a smile. “I’ll wait...”
Bear Predslava shook her head beside me. “I don’t get why everyone’s crying. We just got good news—”
I pinched her belly.
She squirmed. “Ouch!”
Cheers outside snapped me awake. I dragged myself to the window and peeked out.
Umma’s caravan approached in the distance, greeted by a big crowd at the city's edge.
“She did it.” I got dressed quickly and set off.
Grommo joined me as I left the palace. “Do you think the Grayfangs forgot to call this time, Chieftain? The year’s about to end.”
“That’d be good. We could use the spare 40 days for some expansion.”
“E-expansion? I thought we were going to throw a party and take a break.”
“Okay, okay. Break it is.”
We arrived at the end of the city. Curious Snoutlings plucked silver coins from sacks and held them up to the sun as if they were the strangest thing. Umma cracked open some sort of cask and handed out samples.
“Chieftain.” She gave me a cup.
“Is that…” I smelled the liquid. “Beer?”
Umma smirked. “Yeah.”
She beat me to it.
I’d planned to introduce beer eventually, but trade was best left to the pros, evidently.
“A bit early for me.” I passed the mug to another Snoutling. “It seems you brought more souvenirs with you as well.”
Bundles of planks, sacks of salt, and other simple goods piled on her sleds.
“Yes, Bjornhavn has a lot to offer, but I’m starting small. Just essentials until everyone gets used to this new money thing; otherwise, I’m afraid they might end up wasting their harvest on frivolities.”
“Fair enough. Are they treating you well there?”
“More than ever.” She grinned. “I’m getting first pick on the goods thanks to our little arrangement.”
My deal with Leif was simple—we reinforced his town watch with fifty veterans, whom he only needed to house and pay like his regular men, and he could call me if the town ever came under threat.
Goodwill was more valuable than money to me now, so I didn’t ask for any sort of tribute, just that Umma’s guild be protected from any mistreatment. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
It seemed like a good deal in exchange for taking care of a small gang of harpies.
He insisted on keeping the captives in his custody. I raised an eyebrow, but I found it hard to protest; we lacked the infrastructure to keep them ourselves, and unproductive mouths would’ve been an extra burden on the farmers.
Overall, though, I suspected he would treat them justly. Leif seemed like a fairly decent man and a victim of the harpies, despite obviously being a crook.
Petty corruption in Vesmeria used to bother me long ago, but I eventually learned to separate the deed from the man when it didn’t cause significant harm. Otherwise, I’d be at odds with everyone and become unable to do my job—it was chronically rampant.
Umma reached into her sled and handed me a small box. “This is for you, teacher.”
Confused, I furrowed my brow as I opened it. A handful of fresh clams sat on a little bed of snow.
“You bought clams for me…?”
“I’m not even sure what these things are, to be honest.” She blushed. “But I thought you might, I don’t know, like it? It seemed refined.”
“These are rare around here.” I smiled. “I don’t know what to say… thank you—”
“I love clams!” Bear Predslava barged in between us out of nowhere and reached for one with her claw.
Umma slapped her claw away. “It’s not for you!”
Grommo faked a cough. “Ass-kisser.”
She mimicked him, then someone bumped against me. The Snoutling crowd tightened around the sleds, raising their mugs to Umma—
“Seconds!” they said.
“What? There aren’t any ‘seconds’,” she said. “This was just a taster, folks!”
They dispersed with grumbles and curses.
Umma gasped. “Ungrateful little bastards…”
I smiled sheepishly at her. “It seems you have a new best-seller.”
“I’ll go back to buy more before they revolt against you, teacher.” She gathered her crew of haulers and was about to set off when dark-gray figures emerged through the sweeping snow in the distance.
A small contingent of werewolves coming from the Grayfang Pass.
Snoutlings grabbed spears from their homes and formed up around me.
I lifted my hand. “Wait… these are Rurik’s men.”
They stood down.
Grommo crossed his arms. “No break for us, then…”
A werewolf stepped ahead of the group—
“The Grayfangs summon you to war, Witch of Winter.”
A long line of Snoutling spearmen slithered out of the city, nearly a thousand levies, followed by helpers pulling supply sleds.
“Now, that’s a force.” Predslava nodded approvingly beneath me.
I let out a sigh.
That sight brought me no joy. We could’ve been doing something better with our lives.
But a deal was a deal, and the Grayfangs had obligations to us, too. I wouldn’t shy away from calling upon all their might if we ever needed it.
Such were the perks of vassalage.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt watched. I wheeled us around, shielding my eyes from the sun overhead.
“What is it, Kat?”
The sky was clear, just the sun and the clouds.
“I think it was just a bird. Let’s go.”
We rode after the army.