Ice

LEVI AND HIS CABINET EXITED from the Keep’s main hall into its inner bailey and arrayed before them was a large snow-glazed compound abuzz with frantic activity. Servants scurried about a makeshift outdoor kitchen in the compound, carrying baskets of fuel, utensils and ingredients as they hurried to prepare breakfast for the earl’s growing army, only stopping to pay obeisance to the lord and his company as they walked by. In the distance, across a wooden fence that served to demarcate the inner and outer baileys was a line of militiamen jogging in formation. Through the ankle-deep snow, they trudged, drawing a straight muddy line across the compound from one side of the bastioned wall to the other.

Levi observed with a hint of approval as the soldiers deftly scaled the nine-metre tall wall using only a rope ladder before jogging around the top of the wall back to the other side where they descended via another rope ladder.

A few minutes later though he nodded towards Sir Carter and Lancelot before wordlessly moving on, his entourage trailing behind him. The entire line of militiamen and their supervisor—a middle-aged knight sworn to the von Grifenburgs—halted the exercise with a loud salutation as the four men walked by.

The town outside the keep was alive with a similar atmosphere of activity. Despite the constant shower of snow, travelling merchants trapped in Greenfields with unsold goods still fervently peddled their wares to passersby. Roadside establishments like the tavern and brothel remained open to receive a constant stream of customers, and children ran around, playing in the snow. Quite an unusual phenomenon this was as it was rare for any town―or city for that matter―to remain active during the harsh weeks of winter when food was scarce and it became increasingly hard to stay warm.

“The people look happy,” Sir Carter commented with a conflicted smile, his gaze reflecting the multitude of lively expressions that seemed to have become commonplace on the faces of townsfolk.

“Well, they should be,” Levi replied blandly before turning a warm smile towards a small group of boisterous boys that shot by on wooden skis. His eyes followed the mischief-makers as they raced away, manoeuvring between pedestrians on the street and leaving a trail of bewildered shouts and curses in their wake. “How many winters ago has it been since anyone heard of a lord refusing tax before distributing food, fur and charcoal to his people during the month of Sone. Truly, if they weren’t happy then we ought to be worried.”

“I do not refute your logic, m’lord,” Sir Carter said with a small shake of his head. “I am only baffled that we all failed to see what could be achieved simply by keeping the people happy, warm and well-fed. Neither myself, your father, nor the king himself would have ever imagined the month of Sone could be so… productive.”

“Yes,” Levi drawled, his tone still quite dull, “and who would have thought you, the staunchest opposition to the idea could now look upon the idea with such favouritism. Well, the more you know.”

Sir Carter chuckled in response with a small shake of his head, appearing vaguely amused.

As the group walked through the town, ignoring the mildly drizzling snow as well as the constant chatter and looks of adoration that were cast their way, they soon arrived at the town’s smithy. Outside the building was a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties. The fellow was in the process of hauling a large hemp sack into the back of a wooden ox-driven wagon and appeared to have not yet perceived their approach as his back was turned to them.

“Krill,” Levi called out to the young man, “I see you are working hard, how is your father?”

“Ah, Lord Levi,” the fellow turned around, surprised. “Thank you, my father is fine. You didn’t say you were going to stop by, m’lord, we could have tidied up the smithy in advance. I am afraid it is quite messy.”

Levi simply waved dismissively. “It’s alright," he said before gesturing to the sack in the wagon. "Are those the extra spearheads Sir Justin requested two days ago?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“I see, that was fast… Is your father in?”

“Yes, m’lord,” the young man replied. “He and Tyle are working on the flintlocks for the third order of muskets you made earlier. Should I call him out?”

“No need. We are just passing by. Keep working hard Krill, Robert here speaks highly of you. He says he finds your comprehension and drive quite admirable.”―The steward nodded stoically―” Don’t let us down.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, they left. After a brief stop at the butcher’s shop, they continued north towards the lumber mills outside the town. The mill in its entirety was nothing more than a small collection of wooden huts silhouetted by a clearing dotted with wooden tree stumps. About a dozen men were present at the mill with some felling trees, others chopping up the felled logs before moving them into the mill where they were summarily cutting the wood into more manageable blocks a few others.

By Levi’s orders, they simply observed from a standoffish distance so as not to disturb the workers with their presence, watching as the processed logs were moved to the neighbouring compound where they were fed into one of about two dozen charcoal kilns.

“So that’s where the excess gets stored?” Levi asked, gesturing to a small hut some distance away from the kiln.

“No, m’lord,” Steward Robert shook his head. “The charcoal is only temporarily kept there during the day until the evening when a wagon would be sent to move it to the Keep for final storage. Normally, I would not have bothered safeguarding the charcoal so diligently, but since we would need the fuel to make cement this coming spring and there were reports of some charcoal being stolen I decided against just leaving it here and instead move it to the empty food stores where it would be safer.”

“Thieves?” Lancelot asked, appearing baffled, “I thought m’lord ordered a daily quota of charcoal to be distributed to the people. Why would anyone still steal this?”

The steward shrugged. “Charcoal is still quite valuable, Lord Lancelot, and coming spring it is obvious the lord would not continue to distribute charcoal to the people so freely. I am sure the thief plans to hoard them to possibly sell later.”

“If you can,” the earl said suddenly in response as he turned to leave, “I want that thief captured and sent to me. Unharmed.”

“...the thief, m’lord? What use could you have for him now?” Sir Carter asked, baffled.

“Even thieves have their uses, more so one with such foresight,” Levi replied simply without much thought. “Leave some charcoal behind this week as bait, if you fail to catch him before the next week I accept a loss and you can continue as you had earlier. Remember, I want him unharmed.”

Lancelot, Carter and Robert shared a glance but none questioned the earl and moved to follow him.

As the kiln and mill faded behind the group they heard some commotion ahead of them. Soon the source of the disturbance came into view. Another rather large group of men armed with spears, bows and crossbows marched down the snow-glazed road in a rather jolly mood.

The youngest amongst the men appeared to be just a few seasons older than Levi himself and the oldest looked to be in his late-fifties with his vaguely greying hair and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, but all were decked in thick furs and almost everyone was carrying some dead creature or the other. From deer to foxes, to pheasants and rabbits it was obvious the hunting party had a very successful run.

As the two groups approached each other a one amongst the hunting party finally recognised Levi at the forefront as they neared. “It's the lord!” the man shouted, drawing the attention of the entire group.

The militiamen amongst the hunting party immediately stood at attention, saluting with a lively Hail, Levi! The old hunters amongst them who were tasked with guiding the militia stood, uncertain of what to do, but quickly noticing their discomfort Levi smiled before nodding at them as he raised his hand to the group saying, “At ease men.”

The two groups parted and continued on their various paths with the hunting party promptly returning to its boisterous mood.

Looking back at the hunting party Sir Carter sighed again. “Yet, another obvious thing this old man didn’t know was possible until Your Lordship commanded it be done. Mustering eight dozen men and a few old hunters to systematically raid the forest for wildlife during winter, and yet somehow we bring in more meat and fur than we did last spring? If I hadn’t seen it for myself I would still struggle to believe the tall tales about how much the men manage to harvest daily.”

The viscount nodded in agreement.

“Sir Justin also mentioned that the men have become much better shots as well. Much more than they were before you proposed this, m’lord,” Lancelot said, “I want to assume Your Lordship had also predicted this happening?”

Levi shrugged without looking back. ‘Hunters make great warriors after all. Duke Aden was a hunter during his years of exile, so I don’t know why an idea like this should seem foreign to all of you.”

And yet again, the three men shared a glance behind the earl in silent agreement.

A bit more than an hour had passed since they departed from the Keep before they finally arrived at their last destination for the day.

“Is everything to Your Lordship’s liking?” Lancelot asked as Levi gazed at the militiamen on the shooting range with a critical eye.

“I am pleased,” the earl replied to his advisor’s obvious relief. Levi knew he had recently grown hard to please so he wasn’t surprised or offended by the display. He simply watched in silence as the militiamen practised shooting in a counter volley with a conductor shouting orders to the men as they continuously cycled through the motions. At some fair distance away was another shooting range, one on which a dozen or so militiamen practised archery with either longbows or crossbows.

There was even a handful of men in another corner of the field appearing to continuously shoot moulded orbs of cement into the forest as quickly as they possibly could. For some reason, Levi felt it looked a tad reckless but didn’t bother pointing it out. They'd learn the hard way, he thought to himself.

“Robert,” Levi called out, at last, breaking his gaze away from the scene.

“Yes, m’lord?”

“How long do you think we can keep this up?”

“I reckon we should be able to last through winter, especially with the men hunting for most of what they eat. But by spring Your Lordship’s coffers would have bottomed out and the food stores emptied. I am diligently rationing what I can, but with so much going on at once there’s little I can do.”

Levi nodded calmly. “We will hold this course till spring and work out the issue after dealing with Pyrga then I guess, though I would have loved to sort that out before things got desperate here.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, m’lord,” Lancelot said brushing some snow out of his hair. “The Strega is probably frozen solid from here to Greystones and I don’t see how we can reach Pyrga on foot through snow this deep.”

Levi nodded, relatively unconcerned about the topic as he turned around to leave. “Let’s go―” he said before halting suddenly as a thought flashed through his mind.

“Frozen from here to Greystones…” the earl muttered as he turned around to face Lancelot, the memory of the boisterous gang of boys from earlier today emerging in his mind.

“...Is anything the matter, Lord Levi?” Robert asked worriedly as Levi began to pace about with a strange look in his eyes.

“Frozen from here to Greystones,” Levi muttered again before suddenly raising his downcast gaze to face the butler, a flame of inspiration kindling in his eyes.

“Robert..!”

“Y-yes, m’lord?” the butler replied, startled by Levi raising pitch.

“How thick is the ice covering the Strega?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Well, find out! Now!”

“Yes, Your Lordship. Right away.”

Levi’s gaze trailed the flustered butler as he scuttled off, possibly racing to prepare for his impromptu journey to Redwater. The steward would probably come to appreciate the decision to begin work on the road connecting Redwater and Greenfields in a few hours despite his earlier opposition to the idea. The earl did love to prove others wrong, but at the moment he couldn't properly savour the feeling as his mind was occupied with other, more important thoughts.

“Viscount!” He called, turning his attention to Lancelot.

“Yes, Lord Levi? What do you need?”

“Muster a hundred of our best men and make preparations for battle. Twenty knights excluding Sir Carter, Mannon, Turiel and Justin who would remain to coordinate the Greenfields and Redwater in my absence, as well as eighty of our most capable militiamen.

Let it be known to all who would listen, in spite of all indications and expectations to the contrary, there is ultimately a battle to be fought this winter.”