It had been a week since Edmund had begun his first campaign against the bandits in the region.
In those seven days, Graymont had changed more than many of its inhabitants had seen in years.
The roads that had been avoided by merchants and travelers for months were once again seeing movement. The groups of bandits that had operated around the barony had been eliminated, captured, or had fled after learning that things had changed.
The prisoners captured during the operations had already been transferred to the mines.
Edmund had decided that they would spend the next twenty years working there, despite the laws dictating that all of them should be hanged.
It was not a decision made out of compassion. Graymont needed manpower, and those men had proven that they were willing to live off robbery while others suffered the consequences. Now they would have the opportunity to pay their debt by working in the same mines they had helped keep unproductive for so long.
Naturally, they remained under guard, but they did not have many chances of escaping from such a remote place.
But the changes did not end there.
The loot recovered from the various hideouts had turned out to be much greater than expected. Coins, jewelry, weapons, tools, horses, and stolen goods had all ended up under Graymont's control.
Part of it would be used to compensate the surviving victims who had suffered.
And the rest would serve to cover some of the territory's most urgent expenses.
For the first time since he had taken control of the territory, the accounts stopped looking like an immediate threat.
And while the finances were slowly beginning to breathe again, weapons production was also moving forward.
They had managed to produce them together with Brogur; twenty-three of them had already been delivered as soon as they came out, so Jhon and his knights could train the men with them for as long as possible.
Edmund observed the row of remaining weapons on the workshop tables while Brogur finished checking the mechanism of the last one.
They were still far from perfect.
There were differences between one weapon and another; some parts required additional finishing, and production still depended too heavily on manual and magical labor. But they worked perfectly.
Edmund picked up one of the rifles and checked the mechanism before handing it back to Brogur.
—Do you think your people will be able to handle them?
The dwarf looked up, somewhat moved by the intention behind the question; he had never thought that Edmund would want to give such innovative weapons to strangers. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
—I assure you they will be much better than the babies you have for soldiers.
—Then find a way to carry them without breaking them on the way. We'll need everyone's help to make this work perfectly.
The dwarf let out a small laugh.
—Thanks, kid.
Edmund nodded; he was not only bringing the weapons because of the danger of the situation, but also because of his trust in the dwarven race; he knew that a dwarf never forgot his debts and .
Every rifle he could take out of Graymont was an advantage, especially because he did not want to leave such capable weapons outside his supervision; he still had to deal with the nobles of the territory, and the idea that Graymont did not need so many of them kept appearing in his mind.
He still did not have enough strength to do it, but soon he would have to put an end to the political games being played in this city; it was one of the problems he was least interested in dealing with.
In an isolated room located somewhere in the noble districts, twelve people sat around a round table.
Only an oil lamp on the table illuminated the faces of the twelve women and men gathered around it. The windows had been covered with thick cloth, and the door had remained closed for several minutes.
It was not the first time they had met there, and with luck, it would not be the last.
—So, what do we have?—asked Odran, a knight of the territory of Graymont, as he drummed his fingers on the table.—This time I hope for something more than rumors.
—It wasn't a rumor—Havel replied.
—Oh, really?
—There are many servants saying the same thing, that the wizard's sorcery got out of control and there is a demon machine in the courtyards.
The other eleven remained silent at the repetition of the absurd rumors Havel was spreading.
Odran looked at him for several seconds.
—And what exactly are we supposed to do with that?
—Then don't mention it. I can't take letters about things like that to our informant.
Havel shrugged.—You asked what we had.
—I asked for useful information.
—No one knows anything else—Miss Frunz, a widowed baronetess whose husband had left her his entire fortune, intervened.
That was precisely the problem.
Since Edmund had taken control of the barony, they had tried to find out what he was doing, but no one seemed to know the reason behind his plans or what he was actually doing, and at the Lusignan residence they had failed to place any servant within his close circle or even inside his chambers.
—Fine—said Odran.—Let's start again. What do we know for certain?
—That he created a revolutionary furnace.
—And that he trained men capable of facing the bandits.
—I wouldn't say they are capable. I've heard that his guests are adventurers and, apparently, they were companions of our plebeian Lord back when he was a wild adventurer.—Erik, a baronet who had barely been able to maintain his possessions because of his gambling problems.
—Even if they were capable, they are only thirty men and a few adventurers. They won't be able to stand against the hundreds of soldiers House Gastonne has.—Miss Frunz.
—And what if the rumors that he invented demonic weapons are true?—Halve asked, somewhat worried; he was a fearful man when it came to demons and believed that wizards were responsible for most of the world's evils.
—They're just the delusions of commoners. I had the opportunity to be summoned by Jhon a few days ago, and I can tell you they were simple muskets.—Odran said, somewhat amused by the discussion.—That's why the bandits had no chance. They are formidable weapons, although useless with so few men.
—When will Gastonne's attack begin? Although I don't believe Halve's delusions, I'm worried that the spider of Lusignan will find out what we're doing.—Another noble at the table said.
That sent a shiver through all of them as they thought about what would happen to them if that occurred. The Spider of Lusignan was the only reason Graymont had survived for so long, and everyone knew it.
But they also knew that House Lusignan would have no chance against one of the twelve great houses, and they were willing to do whatever was necessary to save their wealth. House Lusignan would have to fall now that they had fully committed themselves to their plans.
I'll be posting three chapters a day there, unlike here.