Pax Impera
Lansius, the acting Lord of Korelia.
The traders from Eastern Lowlandia began to pressure Lansius about the grain price, proposing twelve copper coins for a bushel of quality wheat. The standard price was typically a mere four to five copper coins per bushel.
Regardless of the hefty asking price, Lansius was in dire need of the grain. He needed it as a safety net against the potential siege or a poor harvest. While Midlandia offered cheaper grain, transportation cost was significant.
Moreover, the impending threat of war prevented him from committing his valuable cavalry for escort duties. Lansius sighed, recalling Sir Callahan’s advice - to project the image of a conqueror.
“My Lord, would you counter the merchants’ proposal?” Sir Callahan asked politely.
This is it... Time to go crazy.
“Absolutely! That isn’t a fair price. Raise it to fifteen and then we have an agreement,” Lansius countered wildly.
The traders were stunned, baffled as to why the Lord would demand a higher price. “My Lord, we are proposing twelve out of respect for you.”
“Proposing? You’re selling? But I’m not purchasing! I’m also selling,” Lansius feigned a laugh. It wasn’t convincing, but it was enough because the traders barely knew him.
The traders were perplexed, trying to question, but Lansius was faster.
“I’ve struck a deal with Midlandia to buy their grains. Now, I want to sell my grain while the price is high. Fifteen copper coins, a bushel. How does that sound?”
The traders were dumbfounded. They had wagered heavily on the assumption that the Lord of Korelia was desperate for grain, but now, their expectations were dashed. Now, not only Lord Robert was uninterested in their grain, but Lord Lansius also had a surplus he intended to sell.
“Well?” Sir Callahan prodded, adding to their mounting panic.
The merchants realized they had lost their position in the negotiations. They recognized that they couldn’t navigate this situation without a significant change of strategy. “My Lord, it seems we have made a slight miscalculation. We apologize and will return shortly with a more suitable proposal.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, I’ll send this grain to Robert,” Lansius retorted nonchalantly, retrieving his cranequin and instructing his arbalesters to release another volley.
As the merchants walked away. Lansius observed the traders’ evident discomfort as they withdrew, whispering and arguing among themselves. Sir Callahan followed them with a confident stride.
He had entrusted Sir Callahan with the merchants. The knight understood Lansius’ plan - he was a natural diplomat, intelligent, and respected.
Truthfully, Lansius was wary about not being able to negotiate directly. However, if he seemed too bold and too direct, then his deceptions might be exposed. After all, traders are inherently suspicious by trade.
Once they were gone, Lansius let out a long, profound sigh. He had just executed his biggest bluff of the year. His grain for horse deal with Midlandia wasn’t that lucrative, as the price they wanted was too low.
He had accepted Sir Justin’s proposition to sell horses in the black market around Midlandia, but it would need time to fruition. He also didn’t dare to ask about the buyers, who were likely brigands or slavers.
Regardless, his choices were limited. Korelia was undeniably poor. They barely had any grain to sell. What they did have in abundance was locally produced salted meat that needed to be offloaded. For this, he required the traders’ assistance. However, he first had to weaken their resolve; otherwise, he would appear desperate for supplies.
“Your command, My Lord?” a voice asked.
Lansius looked at Sterling and said, “Let’s fire another round and then stop. Bolts are pricey.”
“And so are those wooden barrels,” the squire remarked.
“The cost of diplomacy,” Lansius replied with a nervous chuckle.
***
Calub’s House
Morning dawned on Calub’s residence. Unlike most days, which were quiet, today the place was bustling with activity as they prepared to operate on little Tia’s ankle.
“Knocked out?” Hannei asked.
Calub gently lifted Tia’s eyelid to check her response, then confirmed, “Yup, she’s asleep.”
Hannei continued, “Tourniquet and hourglass?”
“Ready,” Margo, the page boy, responded.
“Maester, you may begin.” At Hannei’s command, the physician, a man in his forties with sharp eyes and a thin beard, nodded. He began by making an incision on little Tia’s right ankle. Fresh blood flowed as the knife, the town barber’s finest, cut into the little girl’s skin.
Stolen story; please report.
At Hannei’s insistence, the tools had been boiled to cleanse them of any taint.
Tia was laid face down on a makeshift bed. A bucket was positioned below for any bodily fluids. She had been given a small dose of poppy milk mixed with a quarter dose of Calub’s powerful painkillers.
“Margo, watch for Tia’s breathing. Notify us at once if there’s any change,” Hannei instructed.
“As suspected, the ankle bones are fused. We need to break them and return them to their proper place,” the maester announced calmly, picking up a wooden mallet and a small bronze chisel, both of which had been disinfected with alcohol.
Hannei and Calub held Tia’s leg and calf securely while the maester tapped the bone lightly several times. The sight and sound were unsettling. Margo and Timmy shuddered at each muffled noise.
Without hesitation, Hannei assisted with the dressing, using a clean linen cloth as gauze. Meanwhile, the physician diligently explained the deformations in the connecting sinew and muscle, likely resulting from the wolf attack.
As she listened, Hannei’s golden brown eyes flashed, betraying her nervousness, yet she nodded several times in affirmation.
Afterward, the physician, with precise movements, proceeded to stitch the skin back together. He used some linen to dress the ankle but left it without a bandage. “I’m done,” he announced.
“Gratitude, maester,” Calub said. “Margo, please assist the maester if--“
However, the man shook his head. “No, Master Calub. I must insist on staying here. You see, I’m curious.”
Calub nodded gratefully. Timmy readily fetched another chair for the maester to sit on.
Now, Tia’s care was in Hannei’s hands. She observed that the ankle area started to swell.
“Start the hourglass,” she instructed Margo, her right hand hovering above Tia’s ankle. Then she began to chant in a language unknown to this world, “Gloire au Père, au Fils et au Saint-Esprit. Comme il était au commencement, maintenant et toujours, pour les siècles des siècles.”
There was no dramatic burst of light, only the calm repetition of the short verses. At first, there was no discernible change. However, after several recitations, the blood around the stitches began to clot more rapidly.
Hourly, Hannei recited the verses four times. From morning to midday, scabs began to form on the stitches, and bluish bruises appeared.
By afternoon, the swelling had significantly decreased and new skin started to grow around the afflicted area. Calub, accustomed to the lengthy procedure, periodically provided Hannei with drinks and snacks.
The physician patiently observed the recovery with satisfaction. In between Hannei’s sessions, he examined the bones gently with his fingers, ensuring they were properly positioned. He remained until sundown when Timmy escorted him home.
Lanterns now bathed the room in their soft glow, yet Hannei’s ritual remained unchanged. Every hour, she recited her verse, keeping her hand poised above the healing area, as if channeling energy into it.
By the time supper was served, more than twelve hours had elapsed since the process began. Exhaustion started to weigh on Hannei’s body. After each session, she retreated to her bed in the adjacent room for a brief rest.
The flickering candlelight inside the lantern marked the passage of time, with wax melting and pooling as hours turned into evening and then night.
Calub, Margo, and Timmy took turns monitoring Tia’s breathing, vigilantly watching for signs of the poppy milk sedative effects wearing off.
Hannei’s ritual continued throughout the night and into the early hours of the new day. As dawn broke, morning light gently filtered into the room, marking the start of another day.
***
They had breakfast early, during which Calub administered Hannei some of his potions to rejuvenate her strength. Not only Calub, Margo also brought a spiced light ale that provided her some relief.
The physician arrived early, allowing Calub to catch some shut-eye. However, his rest was brief, as Tia soon woke up, prompting him to administer a dose of painkillers. Since Tia was too young for another dose of poppy milk, this was their only option.
Administering the dose proved challenging, as Tia vomited several times, leaving Calub concerned about whether she had ingested enough. Despite the effects of the poppy milk wearing off, she remained in a state of delirium.
Now Tia was resting on her back, making it easier for her to eat and drink. Nonetheless, she remained securely fastened to the bed as her leg wound was still fragile and could reopen accidentally.
Timmy attempted to coax Tia into eating, but she only managed a few spoonfuls and sips.
In the meantime, Hannei continued reciting her verses. Being the only woman present, she also helped with cleaning Tia as necessary. Thankfully, there was no trace of blood in Tia’s urine, which Hannei declared as a “good sign”.
Around midday, Margo brought meat pie from a well-known shop. Although it was delicious, Hannei managed only a few bites. The long, grueling day continued with its monotonous activity.
…
The physician stayed until supper time. By then, Calub had managed to catch a few hours of sleep, and Margo and Timmy also managed to rest a bit.
By evening, Tia had fully awakened. She spoke with Hannei during the breaks in treatments, and they even shared meals. Afterward, Calub administered another dose of painkillers as Tia was beginning to feel an excruciating pain in her leg.
Hannei observed that the wound was healing well, the swelling had subsided, and the skin around the wound had returned to a healthy color. Soon, Tia began to develop itchiness around her ankle and calf, which Hannei deemed as “another good sign”.
Despite her exhaustion, Hannei continued her treatment. Dark circles had formed under her eyes from getting only a few moments of sleep since the night before.
Suddenly, a commotion outside the house startled everyone inside. The sound of several people entering the premises so late at night was alarming. Hannei was alert, her golden brown eyes sharp with caution.
“My Lord!” Calub greeted in recognition.
“That’s not necessary, Calub. How is she?” another man’s voice rang out, filled with concern.
“Hannei is upstairs, but she’s tired,” Calub answered.
“May I see her?” the man asked.
Hannei had recognized the voice. “You may. Come up, Lans,” she called out from upstairs.
Ascending the ladder, Lansius emerged into the room. “You look like a panda,” he blurted out without any finesse.
Unimpressed, Hannei immediately stepped on his foot. Meanwhile, Tia was puzzled and almost ask what a panda was.
“Okay, that’s entirely my fault,” Lansius conceded, his face contorted in pain.
Hannei remained stoic, too fatigued to indulge in jesting.
“I brought some medicine, a blanket, and…” Lansius pulled a parcel wrapped in clean cloth from his coat. This was a common way to package food items. Carefully, he unveiled a golden, crescent-shaped pastry.
“No way, a croissant,” Hannei uttered in disbelief.
“Here, have a bite.” He offered.
A crunching sound resonated through the room as some flaky crust fell away.
“I know it won’t be as good without frigo—“
“No. Thank you, Lans. It’s been ages.”
The atmosphere between them softened.
Hannei approached Tia, offering her a piece of the croissant. Tia took a small bite and was taken aback by the unique texture.
Seeing Tia contentedly munching away, Hannei subtly signaled Lansius. Recognizing her cue, he moved away with her, putting some distance between them and Tia.
With a glance towards the stairs, Hannei confirmed the absence of Calub, Margo, and Timmy. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she leaned into Lansius, “Whispers are circulating.”
“About Midlandia?” Lansius queried, his interest piqued.
“No, something even bigger.”
His curiosity deepened. “Bigger than Midlandia’s succession?”
Hannei hesitated. The words were treasonous, yet she felt that Lansius needed to know. “The Emperor, the Ageless and Immortal one... he’s dead.”
***