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FLTL Ch 282. A Weak Memory?
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 14:30:02 +0000 UTCJoin up as the Duke of Tiranat to read 400 pages ahead!
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Ustaimo was waiting for the knight to announce what the danger was, when the young man sat back on the horse and looked back with a grin. "Hey, I see walls ahead of us. It must be Tiranat. Hope they have some good wine here!"
One of the guards sitting on the wagon bed perked up on hearing that, and began to look to the front, making Ustaimo chuckle at him. That must surely be one of Zoricus' guards, going by his willingness to get away from dangers of the road, and to perhaps find some ale in the village.
"Let's go inside then," Ustaimo called back, thanking the goddess that he wouldn't have to stay another night in the open.
It didn't take long until he saw open terrain approaching in front of the wagon, with a wooden wall visible in the light of the setting sun further ahead. Huh... shouldn't the trees be overlooking the walls of the manor? From what he remembered from the last time he was here, those fedarus trees easily reached close to the roof of the manor house. Weird. Perhaps a fire had burned the trees on the side?
Soon their sole wagon as well as the knight escorting them had passed the tree line, and he saw hundreds of yards of completely cleared ground from there to the walls. He looked to the other sides, and was surprised to see that a similarly cleared ground was present even on the eastern and the western sides of the walls. So it wasn't just a result of an accidental fire. This looked to be done deliberately. But why?
They kept moving ahead and Ustaimo turned his head to look to the front again, when he suddenly saw something he should have noticed long ago. There was a tall wooden structure located just inside of the walls, very close to the gates which were located next to the eastern end of the walls. Wait... that looked like a watchtower. He had seen similar watchtowers built in many places in the east of Cinran to allow the Count's men to spot any approaching raid or even an army of Binpaaz when he had visited a farm there in the past. So yes, this certainly was a watchtower.
He frowned. Okay, now they were getting into bizarre territory. As weak as his memory may be these days, he was quite sure that there wasn't a watchtower inside the manor the last time he had visited here. Was this really the small and pitiful village of Tiranat?
For a moment he wondered why hadn't the knight commented on these changes, before he realised that this was likely the first time the young man was visiting this village, so he must have had no reference to compare it to. He probably thought the watchtower had always been there.
Ustaimo glanced around, and now that he knew what to look for, he saw another similar structure - most likely another watchtower - under construction near the western end of the wall as well. Okay, so his memory wasn't failing him. This proved that these watchtowers were certainly built recently. This second watchtower was nearly complete with only the roof remaining to be constructed. In fact, he saw a few men working there even at this time. But why would the carpenters be working so late in the day?
Usually the labourer's work hours ended an hour before sunset in every village or town, so they could have the time to buy whatever they needed from the marketplaces and return to their homes before it got completely dark. Was the Duke's boy Kivamus some kind of tyrant, then?
Ustaimo couldn't think of any other reason why any workers would be willing to work till this late. Was the baron using his influence and power as a son of the Duke to scare the workers into working? That had to be it.
He scowled thinking that another newly made baron had started to follow the exact same heartless principles as other nobles. This had already begun to sour his opinion of this new baron. Knowing exactly how difficult it was to live a commoner's life under the boots of a hard taskmaster lord, Ustaimo sympathised with these workers. After the greedy baron of Tiranat had been killed last autumn, then instead of the poor villagers getting some relief for their sufferings under him, they had been given a tyrant to rule over them... He sighed. Why did the goddess not see the plight of the common people in this kingdom...
He craned his neck upwards, trying to look further ahead of the walls, and realized that there were two other similar watchtowers visible in the distance, probably located on the other side of the manor compound. That added up to at least four new watchtowers which didn't exist in the past. Just what was happening here?
At this point Tiranat looked like it was better prepared for a raid from Binpaaz than Cinran was! Of course, that was an exaggeration, since this village didn't have even a single knight to defend them, and these were only wooden walls which wouldn't stand any chance against a barrage of fire arrows often used by Binpaazi armies, but it was still astonishing to see so much change here. In fact, it looked like this destitute village was preparing for war! This didn't make any sense at all...
Ustaimo blinked, noticing that the guards accompanying him as well as the knight in front of them were also turning their heads here and there, trying to look at everything at once. So they were also surprised by it, after all.
Suddenly, he looked at the palisade walls in front of him spanning far from east to west and remembered something, which made him doubt his memory again. Was the baron's manor always this big? Those walls extended for a few hundred yards at least, but wasn't the baron's manor much smaller than that? In fact, where was the rest of the village they were travelling to? Shouldn't he be seeing the huts and shacks of the poor village somewhere in the west of the manor walls by now?
He felt a pang of dread in his heart. What if this tyrant baron had burned down those huts, leaving the villagers to the mercy of the elements in the winter? Is that how he had found the raw materials for making these new watchtowers?
Ustaimo glanced at the tall fedarus logs supporting the base of the tower platform and shook his head. No, none of those huts were built from logs. Most of those were mud houses and had thatched roofs, which meant these towers were made from newly felled trees. But where were all the houses then?
He kept wondering about it as the knight approached the gates, the wagon following close behind him. He glanced up at the watchtower again and from this close, he saw an older man looking at them with keen eyes as well as an archer with his bow ready in his hands, along with a... woman...? She was wearing the usual leather armour commonly used by most baronies' guards while peering down at them from the watchtower platform. But why was a woman up there?
For a moment he grimaced thinking that those disgraceful men had brought her to the watchtower for their pleasure, which meant their new baron must have allowed this - even if implicitly - before he shook his head. No, the look in the eyes of that woman wasn't that of someone who would be cowed by anyone. It seemed like if anyone tried anything crass with her, she would cut them down right where they were standing. That relieved his heart in some way, even though he didn't even know that woman or these men personally. Although he still wasn't sure why there was a woman up there pretending to be a guard.
Wait, she couldn't really be a guard, could she? That didn't make sense at all! He hadn't heard of women being guards in any village at all. In fact, this reminded him of something weird he had seen when he had visited Dorastiz - the capital of the kingdom - years ago. Ah well, that was surely irrelevant here. Either way, the guards had seen them approaching by now, so hopefully the gates would be opening soon, and some warm food and a comfortable place to sleep would be awaiting for them all. Hopefully.
The young knight stood up in his stirrups after approaching the gates and looking at the watchtower, he announced loudly, "We've been sent by the honourable Count Ebirtas of Cinran to levy the long overdue taxes on this village. Open up!"
The woman standing up there stared at them for a moment before she asked loudly, "I don't recognise you, sir knight, so I can't open the gate for you just yet. Is there a tax collector in your group?"
Ustaimo easily noticed that the knight seemed to be simmering at his orders being denied, although the young man forced a smile on his face anyway.
"As a matter of fact, there is," the knight replied.
The woman standing on the watch tower platform nodded. "Tell me his name then."
The young knight glanced back at Ustaimo for a moment before looking back at the woman. "It's old man Ustaimo. He's sitting back there on the wagon."
Ustaimo raised an arm on his name being called, and nodded at the guards on the watchtower. "That's me."
The woman talked with the other guards in a hushed voice for a moment, before she nodded. "Alright, Sir Duvas told us to expect him."
Then she called out to someone else while leaning from the side of the tower, and the wooden gates of Tiranat finally began to open. The knight escorting them entered inside first while riding his horse slowly, followed by their wagon.
The moment they entered inside, Ustaimo immediately noticed at least four other well armed men in sight who looked ready for anything in case the newcomers tried something, with their hands on their scabbards and shields tied behind their backs - likely not realising that they didn't even stand a chance against a knight - before one of the guards moved closer to them.
"We've been expecting you, Sir Knight," the burly guard began. "I apologise for the delay, but we needed to confirm who it was before opening the gates. It's a dangerous time for this village, and we have just dealt with a bandit raid recently, so Lord Kivamus asked us to make sure we knew it was the tax collector, before allowing you to enter."
The young knight glared up at the woman standing on the watchtower platform for a moment, before he grunted. "Lead us to the baron's manor. It's been a long journey."
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Next chapter: FLTL Ch 283. The Tyrant of Tiranat
Comments
Kalmars
Feels a bit shorter than ususal, but still appreciated
Kenneth Welever
I sense knightly whining in our future
