It started out as a race to take control of the capital. For reasons unknown, it became a war of every man for himself. For the nobles at least. The peasantry was left to suffer increasingly harsh lives as they were taxed into oblivion as the lords’ armies tried to gain more supplies to outlast their opponents. Some said it was bound to happen. Others said it was the machinations of the empire. But none of that mattered anymore. The Grand Duchy of Shuluk was in a dire state and would likely not come out of the war in one piece. It would in time come to be known as the Great Shuluk Collapse.

The empire had not made any moves since the assassination, probably realising that it might have to face a large coalition if it tried to attack anyone at the moment. This scared the leaders of the surrounding nations. The emperor had good strategists and the willingness to heed their advice. For now though, they were safe. Giving many time to make their preparations.

Braydon was not in the luxurious position of having many preparations to make. He had funding from the crown, true. But he did not have many soldiers or defensive structures, with the exception of his castle. And in a situation of a mass migration, that would not be of much help to him. Though it would greatly help the rest of Fiveria.

As the three weeks passed since the meeting to decide what to do, Cliforge was in a radically different position than it had been before. Though about as perilous. There were now several hundred vagrants in the viscounty, more than the entire original population of Braydon’s lands. He would have been grateful if this was a slow migration over the course of several years, but this had been in the span of a week. There was no time to prepare, and it showed.

The new patrols had been able to keep the main roads clear and the villages safe, but that was it. If one strayed off the paths would not take long before vagrants were in sight. There were also a number of makeshift villages, if they could even be called that, with not a single permanent structure among them.

And it was precisely these people that Braydon had a headache over. There was nowhere for them to live, but they couldn’t leave. There was nothing for them to eat and they could not buy food. And Braydon did not have any jobs that they could do. He had spent many days over the past few weeks trying to think of a solution but none came. The only good news he had received was that at the current rate the new mine would be finished in a week. There had been ⅕ of the workforce but they had been able to work at half of the speed of the full group. This had been a mystery for both him and Colin, but neither of them were complaining. They had enough to complain about. It wasn't until Aran, of all people, gave a suggestion that there was any kind of breakthrough.

“Well if they have no money for food and we have no miners, why don't you just work them there when it opens? If the merchants don't want to go to them, just be the middleman. You have the king as your personal bank, for heaven's sake.” It was such a simple idea, the most obvious when one thought about it. But none of them had thought of it. Braydon had been talking to Nela and the usually silent Mireille about this. Nela too was struck by the absurdity of the situation.

“Simple man, simple answer.” Mireille however was not so shocked, giving her assessment. Short and concise. And brutal. And hilarious.

“Hahaha.” “Hahaha.”

Both Braydon and Nela were tickled. They might not have found it as funny on a normal day, but over the past few weeks they had been rather tense. Her comment had caught them off guard, not that any of her other comments didn’t. She spoke so infrequently that any comment caught them off guard, and more often than not they were hilarious.

Once they had calmed down they decided to ask Colin and Corban on how feasible the plan was. If it worked it would mean that half of the territory’s current problems would be solved, leaving just a large housing shortage. If ‘just’ could be used to describe a large housing shortage.

“It might take some convincing, the nobles in Shuluk did not exactly leave the best lasting impression on the vagrants.” Corban said. It would probably take some military power to back up any actions, but that would mean running the risk of losing the trust of the vagrants permanently.

“Indeed it might, but they are starving and do not have much of a choice at this point. Going back is not an option.” Colin was much more in favour of this as without the king bankrolling the entire thing they would have run out of money two weeks ago. These were expensive endeavours after all.

“These are considerations but all I am asking you two is this: Is it doable?” Braydon asked, there was not exactly another option for him. So, as long as the probability was not zero he would take the risk.

“It certainly is, Sire.”

Rhydian had been sent out with a couple of the senior garrison members to do the rounds of the new vagrant villages. His task was simple, to announce the lord’s intentions to the vagrants. It was not his job to convince them. Convincing would never go well when coming from men in armour with pointy sticks.

There were two main vagrant villages that had been set up since their arrival in Cliforge. Both rivalling the size of the currently under construction village of Sutherford. He was currently leading his men to the one that was a short way away from the road in between Midbury and Sutherford. He would announce what he needed to before moving onto the next settlement, the rumour mill would do the rest of his work for him. It was not long after leaving the road that they came upon their destination. As they marched into the centre of the disorganised place they drew stares of suspicion from the vagrants. The people were clearly dubious of their intentions. ‘Well this was to be expected.’ Rhydian prepared to announce his message in a loud voice, they were not a permanent village so there was no elder to speak to.

“I am here to announce the lord’s decision.” This got more than disinterested stares of suspicion. He had their rapt attention, mixed with some animosity. The people did not expect to be treated well by nobles, especially not foreign ones.

“Viscount Braydon Fiton of Cliforge has decreed that any man of good health, who so wishes, may work for the viscount in his personal iron mine. They may apply for such jobs in seven days' time and not before.” Rhydian was not used to speaking so formally, but this was custom for a lord’s decree. He was just glad that, being a viscount’s decree, there was not much pageantry.

“He has also decided that any person currently residing in his land may stay, given that they follow the law of the land and become subjects of the viscounty. Subjects are entitled to by food from the lord at a fixed price until they are settled in a permanent abode. That will be all.” Rhydian and the guards did not hang around. Given the incredulous stares they were getting, he assumed that if they stayed much longer their group would be mobbed, asking for confirmation.

*sigh*

“I have to do that again don’t I?” He really was not used to speaking so formally. Rhydian had gotten out of the habit when he transitioned from being a part of the old Earl’s entourage to being a mentor for Braydon and the young knight, Gerald.

“Yes, Sire.” The guards were amused that there was something that the usually unflappable Rhydian did not like doing. Though the small glare from Rhydian put them back in their place.

“Well, let's get going. I want to be back by nightfall.”