136 [Interlude]The migrant wave
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Long chapter, mc chapter tomorrow
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POV of Pate serf fifth-twelve moon 285 AC
After storing the grains in the barn, we returned to focus on our work. Despite some people wanting to eat now, we still had to continue working in the fields or forage for food in the forests. Our guests claimed that most of their journey had been spent fighting bandits and clearing the woods, as it was one of their missions.
Although the harvest didn't look promising, there was still a month for it to grow. We had to pray to the Seven for a bountiful harvest, so we wouldn't have to resort to what we did when we had to sell a child.
After a long day of work, as the sun was setting, I returned to the village and found Gilliam's son dressed in new clothes and shoes. The Wolf Head's companions were making custom shoes and sewing hides and fabric to make him clothes, while the mysterious man had him sitting on his lap, pointing at things in a book.
"Truly, Gilliam, I think you did the right thing... it seems that stranger will truly give him a different future, instead of being a servant bound to the land," I said, looking at Gilliam, who watched them with sadness.
"I know... but it still hurts to have to let him go," said Gilliam, very melancholic.
Several of us stared at him, but our gazes were met with the fierce look of a mother protecting her pups.
The next morning, the group of strangers left very early, even earlier than we usually wake up for food preparation. We went to the warehouse to distribute some of the grain so everyone could prepare their meals.
"Did anyone check that the grains they sold us weren't rotten? Unscrupulous traders might do that to sell something they couldn't sell in a food market, given the low price," said the village chief when we arrived at the barn.
We all fell silent since we fully trusted what the strangers had said. Quickly, we opened random sacks and sighed in relief to see that all the sacks contained excellent-quality wheat grains.
For several minutes, we laughed, realizing that we had obtained grains that nobles would eat at a ridiculously low price. We distributed them, and everything returned to almost normal for a few days, except Gilliam who remained very downcast.
The following week, another caravan of the same men was passing through our village, this time with fewer armed men and more merchandise wagons. They also stopped for a day. Like the previous group, they had a man wearing a wolf's head who did the same: started inspecting all the village's older boys, but it seemed that none caught his attention.
One of the men from the group tried to sell us copper crafts since they transported all kinds of things made from that mineral. But no one had coins, only Gilliam, who wasn't interested in what the merchants were carrying.
We also had nothing that interested them, besides very basic crafts that could be bought in any village. As they were about to leave, they noticed several pieces of wood inside one of the barns.
They were intrigued by the firewood we had drying for rainy days or in case winter arrived. This caught their interest, as dry wood in the riverlands was quite rare, considering frequent rains. They bought it through barter: wheat grains for firewood or copper crafts for firewood.
Realizing that firewood would sell even more than the barley that was growing weakly, we decided it was better to cut trees and hope this trade route wouldn't die.
The next two weeks were the same: new caravans of merchants transporting food or metals to the north offered good barter deals for firewood, especially when it rained, as they could spend minutes to an hour trying to make fire, while with a piece of dry wood, those men took seconds using their knives to make fine wood shavings to ignite with their flint.
Unfortunately, the harvest was bad, slightly better than the previous one, but the quantity wouldn't allow us to have a decent diet. However, we found that merchants from The Reach who frequently came bought firewood. There hadn't been a single caravan that didn't buy; we could live off that.
Or so we thought. Finally, the day we hated the most arrived when the tax collector came. Apparently, the lord hadn't gotten rid of the corrupt collector yet.
As always, we presented the sacks containing the mid-year harvest, and again, he began weighing everything on a scale even more rigged than the last time. Despite almost the entire village complaining about the injustice he was committing, he had five armed men behind him, and that was enough to do as he pleased in the village.
When it seemed like he was about to leave, he decided to check the barn and found it quite full of the grains we had bought from southern merchants. The tax collector started threatening us, claiming he would execute us all for trying to deceive the lord by hiding the harvest.
We could barely explain that this grain was obtained through barter and wasn't planted, therefore not taxable by the lord. It was exchanged for firewood with merchants from the south, and the village had the right to cut trees.
Even with this knowledge, he tried to tax those grains as if they were planted here. This time the whole village was turning against him, and his armed men were being overwhelmed, surrounded on all sides, so he decided to retreat. Just when everything was calming down, he tried to charge it as a sales tax, which angered everyone again, as one thing was to charge more taxes than necessary, and another was to charge a tax that didn't exist.
The tax collector left with the barley, but his anger was evident in his eyes. Again, we went back to planting barley and continuing our exchange with southern merchants, who arrived every week for three months until the tax collector returned, accompanied by a herald of the lord and several armed men.
From the smug smile on the tax collector's face, I knew the message wasn't good. The herald said that from now on, the village had a limit of cutting ten trees each year, and the extra seventy percent from what was obtained by sale or barter belonged to the lord.
At that moment, one of the most numerous groups of southern merchants we had seen arrived. What set them apart was that they were all Wolf Heads, and the leader stood out by wearing white wolf skins and on his chest, he had circular metal pieces joined by straps.
"Well, if it isn't the merchants... it's a perfect moment... I must remind you that to trade with my lord's villages, you need his permission and pay the tax," said the tax collector, looking at the group of a hundred men with wolf skins.
The leader dismounted from his horse and walked slowly to the tax collector.
"We only exchange firewood for food, there are no taxes for barter, only when there is an exchange of products for coins," replied the white wolf head with calmness.
"Well, my lord said yes, and his word is law here, so I'm going to confiscate some of your carts until you prove how much is owed to my lord," replied the tax collector.
The merchant leader remained calm, but his serenity made the tax collector even angrier, until finally, the merchant picked something up from the ground.
"I represent the interests of Lord Hohenzollern, the Guardian of the South and the paramount lord of The Reach... your lord is nothing more than an insect... easily squashed... be smart and don't look for trouble that doesn't benefit you," said the wolf head, crushing an insect and wiping his hand on the tax collector's clothes.
"You bastard, these clothes are expensive," shouted the tax collector, trying to hit the merchant.
Only for the merchant to deflect his blow with one hand and, with his other free hand, hit him with an open palm on the chin, making him fall to the ground immediately. The armed men tried to draw their swords, only to see that all the men with wolf skins had their bows aimed at them.
''It is not necessary for blood to be shed... he still breathes; I have only stunned him. Be wise, do not die for coins; it's not worth it. Go back to your lord and tell him we will not return to his lands. If his intention with the taxes was to fill his pockets, he has only succeeded in preventing more caravans from passing through here,'' said the leader of the wolf-skin-clad men in a calm tone.
The men-at-arms took the tax collector and carried him away, even as it was almost nightfall. When our lord's men left, I approached the group of merchants.
''Excuse me... is it true what he said, that no more caravans will come?'' I asked the serene man.
''Indeed... we've tried to establish a trade route through the river lands, but the local lords see it as a solution to all their problems. They impose high taxes and regulate everything so that they can charge for anything... so, if you can trade the firewood, I would be grateful,'' said the leader of the wolf-skin-clad men in a very calm tone.
''Damn, damn, what are we going to do now? This was our only real livelihood,'' I said nervously.
''I say this because your firewood may or may not have saved some of my men's lives from a cold. You can choose to stay here and remain chained to the land, begging for your lord to do something to help you, or you can go south and seek employment in my lord's lands. If you choose the latter, follow that star; it will guide you south... that star... not that one... not the one next to it... that one and only that one... and I will follow the tracks of our cart to take an unknown path with low guard presence before it rains and washes away the tracks,'' the man pointed to the star I should follow.
''Thank you...'' I tried to say.
''Don't thank me; I'm not helping you. I'll charge you for the information. I suppose that if you decide to go south, you'll leave many things behind that I could buy at a good price... tell me, what would you give me for information on which mushrooms and berries are edible?'' the wolf-headed man interrupted, taking out papers from his clothes.
''The village chief can read, so I think that would be very valuable,'' I replied.
''Indeed... good information is worth its weight in gold,'' said the wolf-headed man with eyes indicating happiness.
We gathered in the center of the village to figure out what to do. With high taxes and the obvious manipulation of the scales by the tax collector, things were getting complicated. Now, with this new rule, it compromised everything we had achieved, and the option to go south seemed to dominate, as we had all heard of the prosperity in The Reach territories since the foreigners took over.
In the end, we decided to go south, as it seemed better than the dark fate that awaited us if we stayed. We exchanged much of the firewood we had for the information and papers from the leader of the wolf-skin-men.
Over the next few days, we prepared everything for the long journey and saved everything we could take with us. The rest we sold to the merchants, who took almost everything that could be sold or dismantled for something valuable, as they did with our furniture.
And so our journey to the south began, where for three days we followed the path marked by the merchants' carts, praying to the Seven that it wouldn't rain. However, this was the river lands, and rain was frequent.
Luckily, we still had something to guide us, and it was the information about where the south was. The muddy roads turned into just mud with the rain, and we understood why they exchanged firewood for food. Making a fire with everything wet was almost impossible. Fortunately, I remembered the merchants' trick and managed to make a fire in ten minutes after hours of unsuccessful attempts.
For several more days, we continued south, trusting the information we obtained. To our surprise, we encountered more serfs doing exactly the same as us. Although they were very lost about where the south was, they eventually started following us. This happened several times, groups and groups of serfs who had escaped from their lands.
The journey was plagued with problems: relentless rain, diseases, thieves we had to scare away, wolves, and always staying one step ahead of the guards who occasionally patrolled. It became increasingly difficult because our group kept growing. If it weren't for the knowledge that food could be found in the forests, our supplies would have run out very quickly. But we knew that berries and mushrooms could be eaten, as well as capturing some bird or small animal by throwing stones.
After several days of walking on muddy roads, we reached the Blackwater Rush. The river was very large and was the last obstacle to overcome. Using the bridge was not an option because it would be guarded.
For two days, we searched for a place to cross the river, as its waters were powerful and extremely deep. Finally, we found a large camp of escaped serfs hidden in one of the forests near the river, as there was a ford where we could cross, and they were waiting for the waters to go down. The problem was that some had been waiting for more than three months for the opportunity.
We waited for days and measured the depth of the river. The problem was the food, as more and more serfs arrived every day; it seemed that almost all the villages were suffering.
This forced us to take more risks in search of food until the worst happened. Guards warned us, and they quickly tried to make us return to our villages, but our group was enormous, and we began to throw stones at the guards, making them retreat. But now we had no time; we had to cross the river even if it was very risky.
That same day, we all decided to cross and threw ourselves into the river. The bravest crossed first with ropes to help the others. The water reached almost shoulder height, and many had to carry their children above their heads. Although many succeeded, some were swallowed by the river and never came out.
Completely soaked and exhausted from the crossing that lasted several minutes, we walked south immediately before they started looking for us and forcing us to return.
At night, we followed the southern-pointing star again and kept walking until total exhaustion, as we slept and ate little. We were a huge group of tired, hungry, and sick people who just kept walking south for the chance to live in The Reach lands.
Until we finally came across a huge field of strawberries that had an intense red color and seemed ready for consumption. Although many or almost all were hungry, losing fingers for stealing didn't seem like a good trade.
As we were about to arrive, we noticed a group of riders on the southern horizon who, upon seeing us, rode towards us. We started cursing because we were so close and they discovered us.
When they approached, we noticed they had plate armor, indicating that they were men-at-arms or knights.
They stopped a few meters from us, and I saw how the group leader took off his horned helmet, revealing a horrified face. He dismounted, taking some things, as did his companions.
''Mein Gott, this is a catastrophe,'' said the knight, who grew taller with each step he took.
This man was two heads taller than me, and he handed me his canteen and gave me dried meat from a metal container.
The water he gave me was the sweetest I had tasted, probably because I had gone a day without drinking water.
The other knights did the same.
''Someone go and inform the governor. We have an emergency here. Also, go to our fortress and ask for help from all our brothers and bring the doctors. There are sick and wounded in the group,'' said the huge man in his strange language.
We all stayed staring at the imposing man with a worried expression, watching more people arrive who were emaciated and with large dark circles due to the harsh journey.
''Eat... eat... I will take the punishment,'' said the knight in common tongue, pointing to the large strawberry field.
There was no need to repeat what he said; everyone jumped to attack the strawberries and stuffed as many as they could into their mouths.
''If someone is injured, come with me. I will do my best to heal them,'' said the knight, taking a belt with metal pieces from his horse.
A knight cares for us?
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Give me your power stones
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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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