Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Lucan walked among the bedraggled lot that populated the makeshift camp. Refugees, that was what they had turned out to be. After imploring Sir Wolfe to show them mercy, and successfully receiving it, an older man had come out to speak for all of them.

While they spoke, the knight had commanded his men to go into the camp and make certain that they weren’t hiding any of the more unsavory types, and also to ascertain that they were as impoverished as they pretended to be. So far, it seemed that they were. Lucan observed bony children herded out of his way by stalk-thin mothers, grown men with nary a muscle between skin and bone, and juveniles gnawing on bones of wild game here and there.

He glanced at Lee who walked a step behind him. “They don’t seem to have much.”

“Anything,” Lee said.

“Huh?” Lucan raised a brow and looked back at the old man-at-arms.

“They don’t seem to have anything,” Lee corrected.

“Ahh.” Lucan nodded. “Maybe so.” He continued, passing between two lean-tos which smelled even less pleasant than the collective camp did.

There seemed to be nearly as many males as females. So no great tragedy had struck these people on their way here. It was obvious that they had been subsisting on poaching and scavenging what they could from the forest. He’d seen remains of wild hares, deer, and boar. Here and there, he also saw children biting into nuts and berries. Old and young, they were dressed in what could pass as decent peasant clothing, but it hadn’t gotten much care recently. Some of the other refugees, though, might as well have been wearing rags. When Lucan pointed it out, Lee stated that some of them must have been in more of a hurry than others.

After a while, Sir Wolfe called for them to return to him.

Lucan, Lee, and his men-at-arms converged on him. Lucan noted that the knight was still conversing with the elder who represented these people.

The greying man was heavily built, even if he didn’t have much fat to adorn his thick bones. He was tall and broad-chested with a scar visible under the stubble on his chin.

“Edvin here,” Sir Wolfe gestured at the elder, “says that they come from several villages in Lord Maztef’s dominion. They’re fleeing war.”L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.

Lucan sighed. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to participate in the obligation of herding them back to their lord. That honor would fall to Sir Wolfe. He didn’t recognize the name, but he didn’t know the names of many nobles from The Shattered Kingdom either.

“Where’s Lord Maztef’s fief, Sir Wolfe?” Lucan asked.

“We’re hardy folk, my lord,” the elder said. “We can bear with it, if you will only feed us.”

Lucan nodded. Then Sir Wolfe stepped closer to him, whispering. “Lucan, you cannot have consulted your father about this.” He shook his head as though to discourage the thought of taking them with him.

“We do need the Laborers,” Lucan whispered back. “Father would understand. And they don’t seem to be trouble.”

“It’s still no small chance to take,” the knight said.

“I could go back and consult with my father,” Lucan said. “Will you keep them here?”

The knight shook his head, stepping even closer and lowering his voice further. “They already dangerously outnumber me and my men. Giving them more time might also give them ideas. They must be moved out of my land now.”

Lucan had noted that men made up less than half of the refugees’ number, the majority being women and children, as was natural in any healthy community. Still, there were certainly enough men to mob them. He understood Sir Wolfe’s concern. But he also saw it from another perspective. Those men could be the hard labor for his dream.”

“Then I will take them right away,” Lucan said.

Sir Wolfe sighed, stepping back. “Very well, do with them as you wish. But they must gather themselves within the hour.”

Lucan nodded. The refugees certainly couldn’t gather up that fast, but it wasn’t like the knight had an hourglass handy. “Gather your people,” Lucan told the elder. “My father’s fief is”–he paused to look at the bedraggled population of the camp again–”a third of a day’s walk from here.” Or so he hoped it would be. Many among these people wouldn’t be able to walk very fast.

It ended up taking them a third of a day just to make it out of the forest with all the refugees. Sir Wolfe wasn’t very happy about the proceedings but Lucan apologized to him twice and promised that he would get all of them out of the knight’s lands promptly.

They ended up having to march through the evening to avoid any mishaps with locals. Sir Wolfe had also feared that some of the refugees would scatter in his lands under the veil of darkness.

So, mounted and riding alongside Lee, he led four hundred refugees towards their territory, hoping that his father would see matters as he did.

But one often hoped for things they couldn’t have.