"Roderic, Rowan has his marching orders. Now for you," I said, turning from the war table. The minister looked weary, his eyes shadowed by the burdens of the barony. "Tell me about the keep's resources. Not the state of the army—I already know that is a disaster—but the coin, the grain, the debt."
Roderic took a deep, shuddering breath. "It is… lean, milord. The last harvest was poor. And the tribute we lose to Veynar's men would have fed the keep for three winters." He pulled a thin ledger from inside his doublet, its pages crinkled and stained. "In the treasury, we have less than a hundred silver marks."
My brow furrowed. That was barely enough to buy a few dozen good horses, let alone fund a war. A silver marks is equal to 500 copper marks.
"And the debts?" I pressed.
"Our largest debt is to the Crown, milord, for unpaid taxes over the last two years. The Crown is patient, but they will not wait forever."
"The Crown," I muttered, tapping my fingers on the cool oak of the table. "Do we still have a relationship with them? Does our presence here mean anything to the King?"
Roderic gave a sad, dry laugh. "We are a border barony, milord. The King has a hundred lords closer and more powerful than Ashenvale to worry about. We are a shield, and a forgotten one at that. As for your return… The Crown sent a curt letter expressing their relief, but little more. They assume you are here to stabilize things and resume your taxes."
He paused, then added in a quieter voice, "They do not know how deep the rot is. They do not know we are bleeding from the inside."
The Weight of Gold and Grain
I leaned back in the Lord's chair, the worn leather creaking under my weight. One hundred silver marks. A handful of loyal men. And four villages feeding a bandit chief who was powerful enough to be a low-level lord.
"We need two things, Roderic. Quickly," I said, my voice hardening with resolve. "First, a detailed census of the three remaining villages—Hollow Brook, Greyfield, and Miller's Rest. I need to know how many able-bodied men, how many mouths to feed, and how much grain they have stored. I want to know who the leaders are, who is secretly talking about defecting, and who has a burning loyalty to Ashenvale."
Roderic's eyes widened slightly at the detail of the request. "I can have men begin this immediately, milord. It will take two or three days."
"Do it," I commanded. "This is our foundation. If we don't know its strength, any force we build will crumble."
"And the second thing, milord?"
"The debt," I said, pushing the ledger away. "We cannot fight a war against bandits only to have our lands legally stripped by the Crown."
"What about the Crown tax?" Roderic asked.
I gave him a thin, cold smile. "We don't write to the Crown. We make a grand gesture. We will send the next full payment on time. No deferment, no excuse. The message must be: Baron Ashenvale is back, and he honors his debts. It will buy us favor, and more importantly, it will buy us silence."
"But milord," Roderic stammered, "that payment is over fifty silver marks! That will leave us with barely fifty to last until spring!"
"Then we must be creative with the remaining fifty," I replied, standing up. "We cannot look weak to the Crown, or they will see our internal problems as an opportunity. Now, go. See to the census and the letters. The time for waiting is over."
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"Milord, the census is complete for Hollow Brook, Greyfield, and Miller's Rest," Roderic announced. "It was difficult work, as many feared providing precise numbers would only lead to higher taxes, but we were firm."
The State of the Loyal Villages Roderic tapped the ledger with his finger, "the total population of three villages combined is 4972 . The Able-Bodied Men (Age 18-50) are 719 men fit for labor or war, though very few have any real military experience. After the recent harvest and the villages have enough reserves to feed their people for approximately eight months. This is a razor-thin margin, but they are not immediately starving."
I smile weakly and signal the guard in the hall "Bring Sir Rowan ,now".