EdgarFig
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31. Spy
🕑 Added 2024-07-26 06:01:38 +0000 UTC“They always come lookin’ for ole Weedy Eye when they needing a hand,” the old feral flashed a dirty smile.
Mark nodded as he approached the man shrouded by forest. He was invisible under the night sky, but the snow reflected enough of the moon’s silver glow to illuminate Mark as he crunched along the snow toward him.
“You’re helpful, what can I say.”
“Pleasure to be of ye service, Imperator. So, whatcha needing then, big fella? Something only Weedy Eye can help with?”
“Have you heard of Fort Frostwarden?”
Chuckling, Weedy Eye shook, “Who ye take me for, big fella? Of course, Weedy Eye knows. I know all.”
“Good. And I suppose that means you know Imperator Eamon.”
The feral nodded.
“Great. I need to know everything about the man, the fort he rules over, the resources at his disposal. Everything. Also, if it’s possible, a spy that can keep an eye on him for me.”
“Easy as. Yous Imperials don’t leave ye fancy walls enough. Spyin’ on a fort is all too easy.”
“Good,” Mark said, handing him a sack of irons. For your troubles and to pay whoever you need to. Just get it done.”
Weedy Eye weighed the sack in his hand and nodded. “It’ll do. Go see yous priest man in about two days. I give ‘em all the info. But the spyin’ take a little longer. If I sends them now, the boys’ll be back in a couple weeks. At best.”
“That’s fine. I expected as much. Remember, this is important, Weedy Eye. Don’t let me down.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Imperator. Wouldn't dream of it.”
**Elowen**
For days, Elowen and Venjimin had been going over maps of the region at Mark's order.
It was part of his plan to expand their influence over the region. And to do that, they would need outposts.
And their job was to find sensible strategic locations to help these outposts—places that were easily defendable.
If they were going to command influence over the region, it meant that they were going to need to be able to project their power across it. There was only so much they would be able to accomplish in a harsh land like the Frontier while hiding behind Fort Winterclaw’s walls.
Not only were the patrols that they had started to run limited in distance, but there was nothing stopping heretics in the area from simply leaving when they came by, and returning when they left.
Building outposts and providing security wasn’t about marching armies around the area either; they didn’t have the manpower to do that, even if they wanted to. They just needed to police the region.
Since most of the cultists hunting virgins in the area were either in small groups or alone, all they needed was to provide a small presence to counter their intrusions into the region.
This was the next step toward creating a presence in the region. And once it was completed, Winterclaw would go from being just a little fort to something much more.
The duo picked stockpile spots as they marked potential outpost locations on their newly drawn map.
The plan was that Mark would visit these locations, down a bunch of trees with the help of his suit, and leave them for the ferals to put together.
“How about this one?”
“Not my first pick,” Elowen shook her head. “Look, the sun rises in the east. Meaning that this forest coverage here would be shrouded from the morning light. Perfect for an attacker.”
“Right,” Venjimin nodded. “To think I spent all my life studying just to never pick up a book on war.”
“You’re still one of my highest ranking fer–I mean—commoners,” Elowen said matter-of-factly.
Venjimin curled his brow but let her continue.
“This is where it should go,” she added, pointing to the map. Gorzox had noted the spot as a landmark when he scouted—it was essentially a small rocky hill.
Barbarians didn’t build on rock. Hill forts weren’t unusual for clans, but they were generally built of earthy hills that weren’t too hard to dig into.
“You think we should build atop rock?’ Venjimin gave a puzzled glance.
“Yes. It is cleared from the forest from all sides and elevated views of the area. It’ll give our patrols the perfect vantage point.”
“And be hard to build. And we have so little time.”
“You’re right. But is it worth risking the lives of our people over?”
“Hmm,” Venjimin stroked his chin. “I see your point. You've got quite the eye for this. I concede we put it on the rocks. Shall we move on to the next?”
**Imperator**
Figuring out what he wanted to train the acolytes was no easy task for a modern man in a primitive world. Sure, there were plenty of skills he had that they didn’t, but they weren’t going to help win a fight against oversized, humanoid wolves.
He needed something else. Something that would give them a real edge. Filtering back to the countless hours he spent listening to podcasts, Mark remembered one about the Byzantine Empire—in particular, the part about greek fire.
Apparently, it was made using pine sap, petroleum, and sulfur, although the exact recipe wasn’t known. Thankfully, they had sulfur in the storeroom. And while they didn’t have petroleum, they did have lantern oil.
Mark scribbled down his ideas. It required a fire stoker, a pot, and a pipe, and no doubt a lot of testing.
Sighing at his increasingly large to-do list, Mark gazed over his other notes.
He was trying to make the most of the resources they had at hand. And while flamethrowers were at the top of his list, steam-power ranked a close second.
Unfortunately, he was no engineer, and figuring out how to build a steam engine would be no simple task. But he figured he understood the basics well enough. Steam rose, and it could be harnessed to create pressure and, from there, energy.
Writing his ideas down on paper was fine, but they were useless without skilled craftsmen to help bring them to life. And Mark certainly wasn’t about to learn blacksmithing and other skills that might help.
There was only so much he could achieve by hiring the local population. Sure, numbers were what he needed to build walls, trenches, and militias to defend his growing sphere of influence, but they weren't going to construct a basic engine for him.
Mark pulled out one of Atlas's old maps and ran a finger down to the only real settlement labeled on it. It seemed that a trip to Frostwind Trader’s Post was well overdue now.
Unfortunately, with the threat of Imperator Eamon looming over him, he couldn’t just grab a horse and head down there. He also couldn’t send any ferals. The Trader’s Post was an Imperial settlement, and they weren’t about to let any barbarians in, even if they did conduct some gray-market trade with them on the side. And while he felt his bonds with Henric strengthening, he wasn’t confident in handing him this mission. It needed someone who had a forward-thinking view of Fort Winterclaw.
Sighing, he rubbed at his temples. It pained him that he kept returning to Erin after all he had put her through. But she was the perfect choice. Of course, he wouldn’t send her alone. He had learned his lesson, and unless she took a husband—which he certainly wasn't going to pressure a sixteen-year-old girl into—he wouldn't send her out of the fort without guards again.
His mind wandered to Trayox and the retainers. Just because barbarians wouldn’t be allowed to enter the trading post didn’t mean they couldn’t escort Erin.
***
Mark led Erin from the inner walls, passing through a couple of tight-turning alleys, and stopped at Trayox’s house.
“Excuse me, Imperator, but–”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Mark said and knocked on the door.
A moment later, the large, dreadlocked man opened it.
“Imperator,” Trayox gave a sloppy salute. He was still a little rough, but at least he was trying.
“Tribune Trayox,” Mark nodded. “I have a mission for you.”
“Yes, sir,” he remained stiff as he had rehearsed.
“I want you to escort and protect Acolyte Erin to Frostwind Trader’s Post. Take a couple of retainers with you. If you lack your own, ask Venjimin. He should be able to get you the help you need. Make sure no harm comes to her. And you’re to follow her orders throughout the mission, understood?”
Trayox nodded, and Erin stuck her tongue out from behind Mark’s back.
“Leave as soon as you can. Completing this is of the utmost importance,” Mark turned to Erin. “Supplies, trading goods, and coins will be prepared in a wagon for you. I'll give you two horses to help with the trip. Make sure they come back alive, okay? And good luck out there. Just remember what I told you. The most important thing is that we find willing and dedicated help. If it costs a little extra for the right people, that isn't a concern.”
“Yes, sir,” Erin saluted.
"Trayox," Mark turned to the feral and nodded before turning back to the fort.
Erin watched Mark disappear into the distance for a moment before turning to Trayox with a brimming grin. “Who’s the annoying girl now?”
“You?”
“Hey! You’re not meant to speak to your commanding officer like that!”
"Mission hasn't started yet."
**Acolytes—Erin**
Trayox recruited two men to join them. They had taken on roles as building laborers helping him, and the three of them had gotten quite close since moving behind the walls.
Erin wasn’t sure how skilled they were with their weapons, but they were probably big enough to give most would-be brigands second thoughts about picking on them, regardless.
It wasn’t until they were ready to roll out through the gates that Callum came running and waving.
He had spat out a thousand words a second as Erin stared at him wide-eyed. But eventually, he got his request across when he calmed down.
"You want to come?"
"Yes," Callum swallowed as he nodded—still catching his breath. "Please."
"And what about the Imperator? And your injuries. Do you really think you're up to this?"
"I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle. Besides, when did you become my minder?"
"You're my friend. It's my duty to look after you. Especially when you're not too crack hot at doing it yourself."
"Come on, Erriiin. You know how hard I've been working to get stronger. This is my chance."
"Fine. Don't slow us down," Erin narrowed as she pointed at Callum.
"I won't promise."
"Alright, I guess I'll ask the Imperator. If he says no, there's not much I can do, though," Erin shrugged and started walking toward the inner fort.
"Thank you," Callum called at her back.
It didn’t take long to convince Mark. He nodded along at all of Erin’s points. And they were good points. Even if she wasn't entirely convinced about taking Callum herself.
The fact was that Callum was a great shot with a crossbow and was better than any other acolyte with a sword, not to mention the fact that he had proven that he was no coward. And he was an Imperial. If Erin had gone alone, she would have had to enter the trading post alone. And while that shouldn't be too dangerous for an acolyte of the empire, Mark seemed all to keen to avoid more accidents as he hurriedly agreed.
A short while later, the party was heading back through the walls and into the snow-blanketed wilderness.
Mark had filled their wagon with furs for trading. Furs were one of the few resources that were actually easier to get in the Frontier than the Imperium, and with all the hunting that had been taking place around Fort Winterclaw now that ferals could freely trade with the storeroom and were in constant need of iron weapons and tools, meaning that their fur supplies were in constant growth.
In fact, if they could gain a proper blacksmith or two for the fort, their fortunes would only increase. And continue to do so as their borders expanded with the outposts he had planned.
And it was all thanks to Imperial stubbornness. There were thousands of ferals willing to strip the resources of the land away and overpay for low-quality smithed items if only there was someone willing to trade with them, and Mark was more than happy to fulfill that goal.
He had even given the trade wagon a couple of buckets of axe heads, some hammers, and nails in case they came across ferals willing to trade more pelts along the way.
The fortunes they could make if they played their cards right meant building wealth wasn't a priority right now. They just needed to hire as many skilled craftsmen for Fort Winterclaw as possible and return with them.
Comments
Rodmin
Love this chapter and trade mission!
