Chapter 43 Premium Military Manpower

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This time, Art came to Luscesen with Ron and Kazak, staying at an inn near the commercial district. After visiting Bishop Olof, Art returned with the two to the inn to eat and rest.

After lunch, Kazak asked Art for leave and returned to the laborers’ shanty outside Luscesen. He needed to visit his elderly father, entrusted to the care of a laborer brother, and also planned to deliver the military pay he had saved over the past few months to that laborer.

Just before leaving, Art called Kazak back and asked, “Kazak, how much money do you have on you?”

Kazak reached into his money pouch and counted: 180 fenni from three months’ military pay, plus 90 fenni as reward for the battle at Winchester. Since he had not spent much on food or clothing, aside from 50 fenni on drinks, goods, and women in Tynets and Fort Andermatt, he still had 220 fenni left. This sum was enough to support his father comfortably for more than half a year, but considering medical expenses and some compensation for the laborer brother caring for his father, the funds were a bit tight.

After a moment’s calculation, Art took out ten small silver coins from his pouch and placed them in Kazak’s hand. “This is 120 fenni for your father. We don’t know when we’ll come back to Luscesen next time, so leave a little extra for him.”

Kazak was about to refuse, but Art interrupted, “This money is an advance from your Arlsburg military reward. Ron, go get Kazak’s horse so he can ride back.”

Grateful, Kazak accepted the silver coins and went with Ron to fetch the horse from the inn’s stable.

When Kazak, dressed in a black cloak and sturdy gear, sword at his waist, and riding a fine steed, returned to the laborers’ shanty outside Luscesen, it caused quite a stir.

The laborers could hardly believe that the red-headed man who had worked alongside them just six months ago, carrying loads at the construction site to feed his family, had come back so transformed.

Odo’s shanty, where Kazak’s elderly father lived, was already crowded. Kazak sat on a wooden stool in the center, spitting as he spoke. “...That’s how we recaptured Arlsburg from the mountain bandits. But three of our brothers fell in battle, and many were wounded. I was cut during the assault on the fortress gate, losing half a finger.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal several healing scars on his arm and the partially severed right pinky.

“Now I’m a squad leader in the Southern Border Patrol of the Court; Bass is also a squad leader, and Brother Odo has become the deputy leader. Odo is second only to the patrol officer among the ranks…”

The laborers listened intently to Kazak’s embellished tale, as if living it themselves. They envied those three who had followed the patrol officer south. Though Kazak was known for his silver tongue, his armor, weapons, and fresh scars spoke volumes.

At the end, Kazak took out twenty fenni to buy half a lamb from town. He cooked a large pot of fragrant lamb stew in front of the shanty and invited close laborer brothers to share, thanking them for caring for his bedridden father.

While everyone went out to gather firewood and prepare the stew, Kazak called the laborer brother who had been caring for his father inside.

“Bob, thank you for looking after my father. He still can’t get out of bed, so I need your help for a while longer. Here’s food and medicine money for the next half year.” He handed Bob fifteen small silver coins.

“This is your compensation for the hard work.” He took out four more coins and gave them to Bob.

Bob accepted the food and medicine money but refused the compensation. “Brother Kazak, you and Odo and Bass have taken good care of me before. If it weren’t for you, my family and I would have been driven out by those thugs long ago.”

After Kazak’s insistence, Bob finally accepted the compensation and promised to care for Kazak’s father well so Kazak could focus on his duties with the patrol officer.

After Bob left, Kazak sat beside his half-reclining father on the wooden bed.

His father was initially glad to see him but grew worried upon hearing about the dangers Kazak had faced in the past six months.

“Son, maybe you should just go back to Luscesen and work honestly as a laborer. Don’t risk your life.”

Kazak adjusted the patchwork fur blanket over his father and comforted him, “Father, I’m right here alive in front of you. With Lord Art, I have food, drink, lodging, and regular pay. If I went back to Luscesen, I might struggle to support myself, let alone give you a good life.”

His father knew the hard life of laborers and said no more, only urging Kazak to stay safe.

Kazak gave his father the remaining thirty-plus fenni from his pouch...

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While Kazak was “hosting” the laborers’ feast, Art and Ron were leaving a silversmith’s shop. Luscesen was a commercial city with many shops. Art and Ron exchanged gold cups, silver plates, and jewels taken from Arlsburg’s stables for six small gold ingots and twenty silver marks, totaling more than thirteen thousand fenni. If Art had sold these valuables to noble merchants, he could have gotten more, but lacking time, energy, and contacts, he let the merchants profit.

That evening, under Art’s instructions, Ron set a lavish table with food and wine in the inn, as five laborers wanting to join Art came along with Kazak. Two were single men hoping to enlist as patrol soldiers; the other three were bankrupt farmers with families, but their children were already teenagers, meeting Art’s recruitment criteria.

Earlier, at Kazak’s shanty “feast,” laborers who heard Kazak’s stories about patrol life and the valley fort expressed their desire to join the patrol or move to the valley fort to farm. Knowing Art’s recruitment conditions, Kazak held a preliminary selection in the shanty area, and these five were chosen. He knew Art needed men but couldn’t guarantee their acceptance and wouldn’t overstep his role, so he brought them to Art for final selection.

After hearing Kazak’s report, Art personally questioned them and decided to accept all five. He warned especially the two single men about the dangers and the need to obey orders faithfully. They all agreed resolutely.

Art told them to prepare to head south and meet at the city’s south gate in two days.

The inn was filled with laughter and festive chatter.

The next day, after Kazak returned to the shanty for the night, Art rode with the two to a quarry three miles north of Luscesen. Yesterday, from William, Art learned that the Serankfer Abbey’s quarry was about to change hands. He intended to recruit soldiers from the quarry’s miners to reinforce the patrol.

Art knew that quarry miners endured heavy labor year-round and were naturally strong. Unlike farming, quarry work required coordinated effort—swinging hammers and lifting stones under the foreman’s command—fostering teamwork and discipline, making them ideal recruits.

“Sir, can we just go to the quarry to recruit? Most of the Abbey’s quarried miners are slaves, prisoners, or convicts. Many are serfs who can’t leave without the master’s permission. Without Bishop Olof’s consent, the foremen and overseers won’t let us take their miners. The free miners also double as stonemasons and have good status and pay; they probably won’t come with us,” Kazak explained, having some familiarity with the quarry and its workers.

Art replied confidently, “Normally, the foremen wouldn’t agree to lose miners, but since the quarry is about to change owners, the new owner won’t keep the old foremen anyway. If we offer some incentives, they won’t mind miners being recruited.”

Kazak considered this and found it reasonable.

…

The Serankfer Abbey quarry was near a small town called Ston, north of Luscesen. The town had fewer than a hundred residents, mostly foremen and families of free miners.

They tied their horses and entered a small tavern, asking the innkeeper, “Friend, do you know if the quarry overseer is home?”

Seeing Art and company in fine gear and swords, the innkeeper respectfully replied, “Sir, the overseer just left for the quarry. He won’t be back for a while.”

“Good. Please prepare some meat, bread, and beer, and then bring the overseer here, saying you were sent by Bishop Olof.” Art handed the innkeeper fifteen copper fenni, who accepted with a big smile, instructing the barkeep to ready food and drink, then hurried north to the quarry.

After a while, the overseer arrived, guided by the innkeeper.

Entering the tavern, the overseer paused, seeing strangers around the table.

Art rose to greet the middle-aged man dressed in a tight shirt with an open chest, boots with long socks, and a sheepskin cap.

The overseer quickly removed his hat in salute and sat with Art.

He stared at Art, asking, “Sirs, I’ve never seen you before. You’re not from Serankfer Abbey, are you?”

“I was once a religious guard for Bishop Olof. We’re here on a matter to discuss with you.”

“A religious guard? What do you want with me?” The overseer looked puzzled.

Art did not answer immediately but poured a full cup of beer for the overseer and himself, then slowly said, “Overseer, I heard this quarry is about to be sold to a noble at court, is that true?”

“Sir, say what you need directly. I’m not one for idle chatter.”

Art took a sip and said, “I want to buy people from you.”

The overseer looked confused. “Buy people? You mean buy miners? Do you own a quarry?”

“Honestly, I’m now a patrol officer for the southern border, responsible for maintaining order. I need to recruit brave men who will obey me without question to help clean out bandits and rebels in the south.”

The overseer relaxed, thinking Art was not there to audit the quarry’s accounts. Buying people was no problem; since he knew he wouldn’t manage the quarry much longer, losing a few miners wouldn’t trouble his superiors.

“Patrol officer, you know how to find people. But since the Abbey entrusted me with this quarry, I have a duty to hand it over intact to the new owner,” the overseer said, draining his cup.

Art clinked his cup with the overseer’s and continued, “The new owner won’t reward you for keeping every miner, but I will thank you for losing some…”

With the matter laid bare, things became easier. Art proposed to the overseer that, under the pretext of organizing a trade convoy for Bishop Olof to procure materials to renovate the church, he would temporarily recruit a group of miners as laborers and guards. For each miner taken, he would pay the overseer fifty fenni. How the overseer would explain this to the new owner was his own concern.