He laughed again before walking back up the slope. Lawrence watched his back for a while, both surprised and confused. He’d heard the name of Richard Phil, and knew he ruled the area. His name was famous because of his pride, but only innkeepers ever talked about him. Why would Fred be the lord here? Was he just a thief, like so many who squatted in abandoned buildings? But Fred didn’t feel like a thief..
Someone who let his curiosity get the better of his profit-vs-loss calculations wasn’t fit to be a merchant, and yet living too rigidly by such codes of conduct wasn’t really a virtue either, so Lawrence eventually got up and pulled the arrows out of his wagon and drove behind Fred. The twisting path up to the outpost was certainly well-maintained, as were the sharpened poles poking out in places. They didn’t seem like much more than a symbolic defence, but as soon as Lawrence walked through the gates he realized why.
There was nobody there.
“It’s getting tough to climb up here at my age..”
As Lawrence stopped his wagon in the middle of the courtyard, he saw Fred place his bow on his back. Inside its walls, this place was nicely kept. There were storerooms, gardens, mangers, graves and a chapel - there were even fresh flowers on the altar of the chapel. The main building had two decks, and looked rather impressive.
Someone was obviously taking good care of this place. It looked like there should be people poking their heads out of every door and window right now, and yet Lawrence could feel no eyes on him as he tied his horse up. The only sounds were from pigs, hens, and a few sheep. It was eerily quiet here, like all the other soldiers had abandoned their posts.
“You know, I didn’t believe you at first, but you really do look pretty haggard.”
Fred finally spoke up again as they walked around. There was no reason to lie now, so Lawrence replied honestly.
“Yeah, I haven’t eaten anything substantial in two days.”
“Ah, I see.. but maybe that’s for the best, since I get to show off this way. I’ve got some nice cuts of fresh meat, and Paula even laid eggs this morning..”
Fred walked into the building muttering to himself. It was a common habit for older people, but Lawrence got the impression that he was exceptionally lonely. He followed Fred indoors, where he caught a glimpse of an immaculately tidy kitchen.
“This way please.”
Lawrence walked past the still-hot stove into a room far inside the building, where he was greeted by an old wooden table and chairs. As he sat down on one of those chairs, it creaked.. but despite his nervousness it was able to support him.
“Oh, it’s strong enough for you? I guess I’m getting pretty good at this.”
Fred wasn’t much like a lord, given how much he seemed to enjoy physical labor. Of course, that was a foregone conclusion the moment he attacked a visitor and then lead him home personally. It didn’t suit this place to be called an “outpost.”
“Ah, relax. It’s just you and me here.”
Lawrence had heard tales his whole life about beautiful women living on their own in forest dwellings. They were always a witch, spirit, or the Devil trying to trick travelers.. never kindly souls. But Lawrence had never heard about such stories with old men firing arrows. It didn’t feel right to mix Fred up with those stories at all.
“You’ve been living here on your own?”
Fred smiled in a suspicious manner, but it came across more as one of self-mockery than anything else.
“Back when I was first stationed here, it was with five other brave souls. But one by one they left, until I was the only one here.”
“Was there a war?”
Fred’s face grew grim, making Lawrence wonder if he’s said something he shouldn’t have, but just then Fred laughed.
“Hahaha! I wish! I’ve been here for decades, and the only battles I’ve seen are with hungry lost travelers like yourself!”
He laughed a little longer, then stared at Lawrence.
“So you’d best be careful! If you eat too much here, you’ll never want to leave!”
With another laugh, he ran off to the kitchen. Lawrence knew this place wasn’t hell, but he still had his doubts.
“What an odd place.”
* * *
It was a bit early for dinner, but Fred still prepared a platter of meat and eggs fried in oil along with large bits of vegetables. The wheat bread he set down was probably freshly-baked as well, given how soft it was. Even the beer must have been brewed in the outpost: Lawrence could tell from a few sips that the spices he’d seen in the garden were used to brew it. It was a sumptuous feast indeed, and Lawrence didn’t even have to worry about poison: Fred was already way ahead of him, drinking happily and showing an appetite that didn’t quite suit his age.
“How can I not be happy to eat with someone else for a change? Come on, someone as young as you should be digging in already! Especially with the beer!”
Lawrence couldn’t help but be irritated. He ended up eating the food so quickly that even Fred was surprised.
“Ah, too much..”
Fred used the dagger he sliced the meat and bread with to carve himself a toothpick. Just like Lawrence thought, he evoked more of a tough, old farmer’s aura than the lord of an outpost. In fact he didn’t seem like a noble or knight at all. As they ate, he’d pestered Lawrence with questions: “Where’d you come from? What do you trade in? Where do you live? Are you married?” Lawrence had no choice but to humor him, what with the delightful dinner Fred had prepared, so he didn’t get the chance to ask any questions of his own.. until now.
“Thanks for the meal.. I’d have to pay in gold to get something like this at an inn.”
It was a typical offer of thanks from a merchant.
“I see! Hahaha!”
Fred laughed and nodded.
“The wheat bread’s good, but the pork’s texture tops it. I wonder how you managed to grow wheat on this land, let alone having enough to feed all the pigs and sheep.. just how are you managing?”
Fred smiled and looked at the bread acting as his plate, which had become drenched in grease. From his smile it was clear that he was thinking of what to say in response. Old people had a tendency to like talking about their pasts, but they didn’t usually come right out with it.
“That, and I remember several years ago that the Count..”
“Hmm.”
That helped Fred quickly come to a decision. He nodded and tore the bread in front of him into four pieces, like he was breaking the last chains holding him back.
“The last time I got a letter was six years ago. It was sent by a knight who claimed to be the Count’s nephew.. I suspect he died in that year’s expedition. A shame, that..”
So far, this was within Lawrence’s expectations.
“That letter stated that the Count had left, leaving this outpost to me and asking me to protect it in his stead. It also stipulated that the Duran Monastery would send me supplies. The Count, you see, was a good man, even the poets sing his praises. Of course there were also a lot of rumors about him, but he worked hard to build his base of power.”
Lawrence immediately suspected that the Count had made large donations to the monastery, back when he had the means. That would explain Fred’s ability to remain independent here.
“I came from an entirely lifeless village. Twenty years ago, the world was swallowed up in war. I was a timid mercenary, until I met the Count. His charisma was such that everyone wanted to loyally serve him.”
“You’re talking about.. those wars where everyone had to fight, from cobblers to shepherds?”
Lawrence gestured for Fred to join him in a drink, which surprised the old man and yielded a pleased nod from him.
“Yes. In that age, no matter how poor the land, its baron would fight for it, and everyone would run to join them, weapons in hand.”
Fred spoke with a tone of longing and pride that befit a man of his age, but Lawrence knew that the “world” he was talking about wasn’t more than th
e small area Fred knew about. Everyone living in a town thought that way. Of course, Lawrence wasn’t going to rudely point that out, so he kept quiet. Seeing that, Fred took another sip of wine and happily looked at him.
“You’re rather polite for someone your age. I expected to hear you mumble something like ‘what a stupid old man.”’
Lawrence was surprised enough to smile; evidently Fred had experienced life for himself.
“It’s pretty common, after all. You hear of some far-off war that’s coming to you, and because you’ve been stuck in town your whole life, and travelers keep to themselves, it feels like the whole of the world is at war.”
It must have actually been a peaceful time. Lawrence had heard of his share of war rumors, but most of them boiled down to two armies meeting, exchanging declarations, and then talking through their differences. That was the punchline to many a joke.
“It was no different back then. Even Count Phil, described by everyone as driven by pride, stupidly believed the rumors floating around the pubs. When I heard him declare that he was building an outpost out here, I was terrified.”
Fred suddenly tossed some bread out the nearby window.
“Stewart!”
The sound of hooves rang out after that shout, but Lawrence realized it was no horse with such a fine name: it was a hog.
“Still, it meant I had work, and why argue with a generous Count? So the outpost was built.”
“But it had no enemies to defend against, huh?”
Fred nodded with an expression as though he didn’t want to wake up from a dream.
“I’m not sure how long ago it was anymore, but around ten years ago we took in a lot of refugees, and once in awhile we got reports that brigands wanted to attack us, but we’ve never faced a single battle.”
That made sense, since it would be quite wasteful to attack such an out-of-the-way place on such a rocky plain. The place wasn’t really worth defending, all things considered - it would be too difficult to supply during a siege. Really, there was no value in attacking or defending this place, which explained why there weren’t any soldiers posted.
“Incidentally, we never heard any rumors of attack after the Count died. This place is just too poor for anyone to want it. It’s like the Church says, am I right? Poverty is a blessing.”
There was a hint of anger behind Fred’s smile now; maybe the beer was getting to him. He’d lived in this outpost for at least ten years now, and was clearly disappointed that he’d never been in a battle.
“That said, my duties for the Count will end next summer. I received a letter not too long ago.”
“Oh?”
Lawrence revealed his surprise as Fred stood up.
“That’s why it’s so lucky I didn’t kill you.. you’re a traveling merchant, aren’t you?”
Fred flung another piece of bread out the window, and a chicken was heard clucking outside.. Paula, perhaps? The quiet outpost was actually lively for once.
“I have a request, you see.”
“Hmm.. alright, if it’s within my abilities.”
Lawrence’s already had his business route set, but that didn’t mean he was averse to expanding it. Even if the outpost’s Count had died, and it was soon to be abandoned, that didn’t mean there was no opportunity to be found here. If Lawrence could profit, he would try to. As his mind came to terms with that, the old man across the table smiled at him.
“Please help me put a price on everything here.”
Lawrence looked up, completely taken in.. and in that moment, a merchant lost whatever advantage he may have had.
“I want to travel, but to do so I’ll have to sell everything for cash.”
“I can help, but..”
“I’ve lived here for ten years, so I’m entitled to do so. After all, I’m this land’s defender.”
He was obviously drunkenly joking with that last sentence.
“Well, you have a good night’s sleep. It’s been a while since I’ve had guests, but the mattresses here are filled wheat husks.. makes for a surprisingly comfy bed!”
Fred laughed as he revealed his background as a knight.
“Of all the buildings we humans build, outposts are only beaten by churches in terms of how basically functional they are.”
* * *
The next morning they climbed a rope to get into the tower of the outpost, then headed downstairs. The outpost was built on a bit of a slope, but a wagon would have no trouble keeping parked. It was built on a specific slant on purpose, so enemies on horseback would have a tougher time attacking with right-handed weapons, while the knights here could more easily attack with theirs. The holes in the tower walls weren’t built just to spot enemies, but also to find the sun. Even under siege, a tower like this could still tell the time and calendar date from that.
In addition, the stone construction meant that water wasn’t a problem, as all the troughs sent rainwater to the garden where it could be collected in barrels. There was no waste in the construction’s design, so to speak: every stone would lead water to a barrel somewhere, so they didn’t have to worry as much about well water. In fact, the only design flaw was that floors weren’t designed to trap and retain the heat from the fireplaces under them.
“Maintaining this place is a nightmare, especially when the stones crumble. I can’t do much about that.”
He didn’t have to say that. Lawrence could already tell it was nothing short of a miracle that he did this well on his own. Having eaten breakfast, Fred was taking Lawrence to the underground treasure vault of the outpost. Needless to say, it was never used.. it was in the same shape it had been since day one. There wasn’t a whiff of noxious gas, nor even a single mushroom.
“Count Phil left these behind when he built this place, but I’ve no idea what they’re worth. Maybe you, a merchant, can tell me if any of this is worth anything?”
There were tents and flags there in the candlelight, and some other basic necessities for outpost life. The tents and flags were likely made of the finest canvas, given that they were bereft of mold. They should be worth a fair price. The utensils weren’t silver, though, just iron or tin.
The deeds and certificates might seem promising, but only until one considered that even thieves steered clear of this place. That meant they weren’t worth even that much effort. At best, one could erase their contents to sell them as blank paper, but that was about the best they could offer. There were also books of heroic adventures, for what they were worth.
Lawrence opened his mental account book and gave Fred his estimate, then added whatever fees he guessed would be involved. Fred carved those figures onto a wooden tablet with his dagger.
“Hmm, I see..”
Fred was impressed by the final amount.
“The tents and books are worth quite a bit. Maybe you ought to donate them to a monastery somewhere?”
The implicit joke there was that Fred could retire to live with prayer-minded thinkers for the rest of his life. Hearing that made Fred burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha! I’ve been living as an ascetic long enough already! I’d never spend my money to get what I already have!”
He sighed soon after his brash, youthful statement.
“I left my village because I wanted a piece of land to guard with my own sword. A ceiling is the last thing I want to see when I’m dying. I’m Fred Redmay of the Knights of Count Phil!”
He was an aged veteran, but Fred still sounded like a warrior. Even Lawrence was touched by his words. Fred suddenly looked at him and continued.
“Speaking of knights, there’s another thing.. our most important thing. I should have you estimate its value, too.”
“Your most important thing..?”
Fred didn’t answer Lawrence’s question, and instead set down the wood tablet and sheathed his dagger at his waist. He then walked to one corner of the vault and moved the crates of tents and flags to reveal another crate covered by a piece of dark red cloth. La
wrence wondered what was in that crate with a hill-like symbol emblazoned on its cover, then wondered even more about the size of the box.. it was large enough for a man to fit inside. His questions were soon answered as Fred opened the crate. Indeed, there was something like a person curled up in that crate: a set of armor.
“This.”
Fred lifted up the helmet and touched the slightly-dented faceplate, squinting as though remembering something from his past. That helmet had probably saved his life.
“Could you evaluate it’s value for me? I know it’s heavy, but..”
He tossed the helmet to Lawrence as he spoke. It still had a slight film of oil on it, so even if it didn’t shine brightly there was no trace of rust. It was a simple polish away from being usable. But Lawrence knew the value of this heavy-duty combat uniform, and could only look at Fred with a smile of embarrassment.
“Well, how much is it worth, the costume that saved my life?”
Lawrence also knew that the key item a young knight dreamt of owning after leaving home - the sign of their success - was a full set of armor. It was the item that decided whether they were fated to become knights or mercenaries. They were beyond valuable; they were a status symbol. Was Fred really able to sell something like this? Lawrence was so taken aback he couldn’t give Fred a definite reply.
“..I suspect it will be worth more than the rest combined..”
“Oh? Even more than all those tents and flags? I guess that just goes to show how great I, its wearer, was.”
Of course it had more cash-value, but Fred was clearly thinking the same thing Lawrence was. Knights swore their allegiance before flags, but those flags were worthless compared to a set of armor. And yet, after all that time, only its cash value remained. It really hit Lawrence hard to realize how fragile things like fame and power were.
“Ahaha! I would never have imagined selling my armor before, and now there’s a merchant before me who’s been rendered speechless by it. How curious!”
Fred hit Lawrence’s back, and Lawrence coughed. It was clearer up close, even in such weak light, that Fred was trying to contain his emotions.
Spice & Wolf XVII (DWT) Page 8
