Leaving the Valley

In the evening, Art led his horse back to the wooden house. This autumn, due to various distractions, Art’s hunt was not as fruitful as last year, and the harvested barley stores also sharply decreased with the arrival of Scott’s family.

However, what made Art more anxious was not the food and drink for the people in the valley, but the drastic change in the outside situation, which made him feel that the time had come, but he was alone and weak, hiding in this desolate place; how could he rise amidst the chaos?

"Emma, I haven't seen Ron in a while. Why isn't he helping build the wooden house? Where has he been running off to all day?" Art asked Emma, who was milking a goat.

Seeing Art return from hunting, Emma quickly stepped forward, took the reins, and bowed to Art, saying, "Reporting to my Lord, Ron has been wandering in the forest recently. He said that even if my Lord doesn't take him as a retainer, he still wants to retrieve the lost prey for my Lord."

"Nonsense! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Do you know how dangerous this forest is? What if a guy who can't do anything goes into the mountains alone and gets targeted by wolves? What if he encounters a brown bear or a wild boar?" Art was greatly alarmed.

"Cooper, Scott, come in." Art called out to the two men who were digging foundations for the new wooden house outside the wooden fence.

"Such a big matter and you don't tell me! What would you do if something happened to Ron?! Do you know how dangerous it is in the forest?" Art grew angrier as he spoke.

The two stood silently before Art, not saying a word. When Art's anger subsided a little, Cooper softly said, "My Lord, Ron is a child who knows shame, and he is also a stubborn child. He insisted on going into the mountains to hunt a deer for my Lord, and we couldn't stop him.

Besides, he is no longer a child; he knows what he is doing."

While Art was losing his temper in the wooden house, Ron entered the small courtyard, leaning on a wooden spear as tall as himself with his left hand, and leading a wild goat tied with a hemp rope with his right hand, looking dejected. He still hadn't hunted a deer.

Everyone stopped speaking and looked at Ron.

Ron herded the wild goat into the pen, then came before Art with weary steps and tattered clothes, saying, "My Lord, I am useless; I couldn't hunt a deer." With that, Ron deeply bowed his head, which was covered in old and new scars.

Art looked at Ron, then at the wild goat in the courtyard, and all his annoyance vanished. He looked at Old Cooper, then at Scott, and then asked Ron in a gentle tone, "Can you ride a horse?"

Ron was a bit confused by the sudden question: "My... my Lord, I haven't ridden a horse, but I used to ride donkeys often."

"Pack up. Tomorrow, you're coming with me on a long journey."

After dinner, Art called Old Cooper, who was preparing items for the next day's journey, and said, "Cooper, I will be away for a long time this trip.

During this time, you must guard this place with Scott, try to stay near the wooden house, and remember not to go out of the dense forest north of the valley, as it is very chaotic outside now.

Also, the work in the fields is finished now. During this time, you must clear the miscellaneous trees and weeds around the wooden house, level out an open space, and then cut more timber to build a long wooden house, just as I told you before."

Old Cooper listened to Art's words, nodding continuously, and then said earnestly to Art, "My Lord, are you truly ready?"

"Cooper, the chaotic times have arrived; this is the last darkness before dawn." With that, he picked up the fine-grained Uzi steel longsword lying on the wooden table with both hands, caressing the row of inscriptions on the blade, and silently recited, "Until the lamb becomes a lion."

The next day at noon, Old Cooper and Scott's family bid farewell to the two who were about to depart at the gate of the small courtyard.

Art didn't know how long this trip would take, so he made thorough preparations.

Art wore a semi-circular iron helmet, a long tunic under a light cowhide armor, a bear fur cloak over it, and cowhide long boots; a fine iron dagger was tucked into his waist.

Under him was a date-red steed; a horn bow and a sheepskin water bladder hung on the left side of the front saddle, and a fine steel longsword and a small leather-covered round shield hung on the right; a sheepskin felt blanket was tied behind the saddle.

Ron was also dressed in a hooded long tunic, with a sheepskin coat over it, cowhide boots on his feet, and a short sword and a wooden-handled short knife hanging from his cowhide belt.

Under him was a gray mule; a water bladder hung in front, and a large bundle of furs and mountain goods and a large piece of smoked venison were tied behind.

A set of horse tack was tied behind the saddle, containing a pieced-together animal fur blanket, a bag of bran, a deep copper pot, two sets of eating utensils, a few dark breads, and some scattered items.

Money was useless in the valley, so Art took all his money with him, because he would need a lot of money next.

The sky had already turned a greyish-black, and the clanging sound of metal striking metal came from a Giant Stone Pile in the wilderness.

"Ron, don't just focus on the sword in your hand; remember to keep your feet steady. Spread your feet shoulder-width apart, step forward with one foot, point your front foot forward, rotate your back foot outward, and slightly lower your waist."

"When gripping the sword, place your right thumb on the blade. Don't find it strange; just do it that way. Good, now try to slash at me with a pear stance."

From the time the two arrived here before sunset, Art began to teach Ron the most basic swordsmanship with clanging sounds. Unfortunately, Ron had no foundation in swordsmanship, and even when it was completely dark, Ron still couldn't achieve the most basic effect Art wanted.

However, as a farmer's son, Ron had a lot of brute strength. Although he had no skill or technique with the sword, he could still be of some small help by wielding a weapon with sheer force.

After an afternoon of "slashing, stabbing, and parrying," Ron's limbs were sore, and his face was pale with purple lips. He had never imagined that practicing swordsmanship would be so hard.

But he didn't want Lord Art to think he was too weak, so he forced himself to start a fire, cook, and feed the mules and horses.

Art found Ron's limping, struggling appearance amusing, but he had no intention of helping him. If Ron had been content to be a farmer's son, perhaps Art would have softened, but since he chose to become his retainer, he had to endure the test and grow quickly, because Ron wouldn't have much time to grow.

On the second day of their journey, the two were already approaching Tinietz.

Along the way, the two experienced the impact of the war in the south. Less than half a day's ride north from the Giant Stone Pile, on the trade route to the north, there were constantly small groups of refugees, most of them in rags and as thin as dry firewood.

Many of them would not even make it to the next inhabited place, and corpses that had fallen asleep and never woken up were often seen along the roadsides.

Even if they were lucky enough to reach the next village or manor, they were either expelled as demons possessed by evil spirits, or they were conscripted as serfs or even sold as slaves by Lords because they could not pay the exorbitant "transit tax."

Even more greedy and brutal Lords would lead Soldiers to slaughter refugees, plunder their belongings, and forcibly abduct people.

Winter was coming, and the road north would be even more difficult.

Art and Ron avoided large groups of refugees and patrolling Lord's cavalry, arriving at the outskirts of Tinietz on the third day at noon. Tinietz was already in chaos.

At the foot of the city wall, refugees had built messy shanties with dead branches and weeds. Clay pots were simmering over bonfires, containing some unknown soup.

As Art and Ron rode past, these people either looked up at them blankly or stretched out their hands to beg. They were listless and visibly hungry, and among them were women holding wailing infants.

"Two handsome Lords, look at my beautiful daughter, just one fenny!" As Art and Ron walked out of the edge of the refugee shanty area, a middle-aged woman, as fat as a pig, grabbed Art's reins.

Art looked in the direction of the fat woman's finger, where several emaciated, shivering girls sat at the entrance of a dilapidated house.

Art glared distastefully at the fat woman in front of him, who was wearing heavy, cheap perfume, and turned his horse's head slightly, freeing the reins from the fat woman's hand.

The fierce glint in Art's eyes made the fat woman's heart tighten. She quickly moved out of the way, spat at the departing backs of the two, and then began to look for her next target.

"Help!" Just as they were about to leave the refugee area, a woman's and child's screams suddenly came from the edge of the refugee camp to their right.

Ron immediately drew the short sword from his waist, and Art also placed his hand on his sword hilt.

"Let's go see." Art said to Ron beside him, and then the two rode towards the secluded area from which the sound came.

Art heard the muffled thud of sticks hitting flesh from afar. Turning the corner of the city wall, he saw five city thugs dressed in worn linen beating a man.

The man was already bleeding profusely, but he was still desperately shielding his wife and daughter behind him.

Art gestured to Ron to proceed cautiously, then bent down, trying to avoid the scattered branches and dead wood underfoot.

However, Ron accidentally knocked over a broken clay pot, making a strange sound. The thugs stopped their actions, stood up, and looked back.

"Go! They've found us." Art gritted his teeth, drew his longsword, and ordered Ron. He was already certain these were city thugs who preyed on the weak.

"What's going on? Is it the constable?" The thugs saw two sword-wielding warriors suddenly jump out from behind the city wall, but unlike the town guards they usually saw, these two wore animal hide armor.

They hastily picked up their clubs and turned to charge at Art and Ron, and instantly, the crisp sound of weapons clashing rang out.

"Ooh-woo!" Art held his longsword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. He used the longsword for offense and the dagger for defense, fighting with both hands and forcing the thugs to retreat steadily.

Seeing Art repel the thugs, Ron also felt a surge of courage. Relying on his brute strength, he swung his short sword wildly, striking down one thug in front of him in a few blows.

The other thugs, seeing their companion cut down, stopped in their tracks.

"Get out!" Art, seeing that the thugs were intimidated, waved his longsword and shouted loudly at them.

The thugs quickly helped their bleeding companion who had fallen to the ground and fled in a hurry.

Ron stepped forward to check on the man who was surrounded by the woman and child. The man was slumped on the ground. Seeing Ron approach, he quickly forced himself to stand up, dragging his wife and daughter to their knees, continuously speaking words of gratitude for saving their lives.

Ron stepped aside, and Art came before the man, looked at him, and asked, "Are you refugees fleeing the war?"

"My Lord, we are villagers from Ars堡 in the Bore Mountain area, southeast. In autumn, about twenty bandits came down from Bore Mountain, killed the Lord, and occupied the village fort.

The bandits committed all sorts of evil deeds in the village fort. I fled here with my wife and daughter, and as soon as we arrived, we were targeted by this group of thugs.

They not only wanted to steal my belongings but also to take my wife. Fortunately, you two Lords saved my family's lives!" The man took a piece of ragged cloth from his wife and pressed it to the bleeding wound on his head.

Art saw that the man's family was not seriously harmed, so he told them to leave quickly, to prevent the thugs from returning for revenge.

A small interlude did not change their plans. Upon reaching the South Gate of Tinietz, as the city guards familiar with Art had been dispatched to clear out bandits, they had no choice but to pay the full commercial tax to enter the city.

Upon entering Tinietz, they found the city already overcrowded. The inn called Free Buffalo was now packed with wealthy merchants and gentry who had fled from the south.

They were embracing scantily clad women while loudly demanding drinks from the bartender in a thick Southern accent of the common tongue.

Pimps and beggars were ubiquitous on the streets. The poor shantytowns in the northeast and the slave market in the northwest were teeming with refugees and slaves for sale.

Despite the tireless patrols of the constable and town guards through the streets and alleys, incidents of theft, robbery, and murder increased rather than decreased.

The chaotic situation severely affected the normal operation of urban commerce. Many merchant caravans and peddlers were unwilling to trade here. The massive influx of people and the decline of commerce led to urban unrest and reduced tax revenue.

Therefore, the Lord's Hall had to raise commercial taxes and impose forced entry taxes, collecting more taxes to hire Soldiers to maintain order.

All of Art's furs and mountain goods this time only brought back less than 250 copper fenny. However, Art didn't care too much; this money was just to cover their travel expenses for this trip north.

That night, the two spent four fenny to make do for a night in a sheltered spot in the free market. The free market had patrols from tax officials and tax collectors, making it much safer than other parts of the city, and the two slept well.

The next morning, the two ate a large bowl of oatmeal porridge with a piece of rye bread at a small stall in the free market. As soon as the sun rose, they packed their belongings and set off from the North Gate, heading towards Lucerne, the most prosperous city in the southern part of Burgundy County.

The two rode without stopping, and after passing through Leitersberg and Engelsberg, they arrived at Lucerne at noon on the third day. From Provence to Burgundy County, Ron had seen mighty cities and huge castles, but he was still amazed by the vastness of Lucerne's city, its dense population, the grandeur of its urban structure, and the prosperity of its commerce, unable to help but widen his eyes, looking everywhere.

Lucerne Castle was about two miles in circumference, with walls fifty feet high and fifteen feet thick. The road on top of the walls was wide enough for two horses to ride abreast, with towering stone towers at the four corners.

Every hundred and fifty feet along the wall, there was a horse-face bastion and an arrow tower. The city walls had twenty-foot-high, fifteen-foot-wide embedded portcullises on the east, west, north, and south sides, behind which were iron-clad oak giant gates.

Outside the city was a moat surrounding three sides. Inside the city, shops lined the streets, and squares, churches, Monasteries, and the Lord's Hall were connected by wide, flat, paved avenues.

The two led their horses, following a merchant caravan entering the city, crossed the drawbridge, passed through the heavily guarded city gate, and entered the city, finding a quiet inn to stay at.