Chapter 37
Children from the North
The first light of dawn broke through the dark clouds, casting a soft, golden hue over the small castle. The rainfall from the previous night had ceased, leaving the air cool and fresh. Lansius stood by the window, gazing at the transformed landscape outside.
The ditches had turned into a water canal, and some sections had inadvertently created a crude-looking irrigation system. It would have been a great success if it had been intentional, but Lansius had no such plan.
Despite his insistence that it was a mere coincidence, the people of Korelia praised him, believing their Lord was simply being humble.
Good things do happen sometimes.
As Lansius observed the canal-like structure, he wondered once more if the land could benefit from diverting the river stream slightly. A small man-made lake could prove advantageous, especially if it could support the fish delicacy he’d enjoyed in Torrea village.
“Sterling,” Lansius called, his gaze still fixed on the window.
“Yes, My Lord,” the young squire replied, bowing slightly.
“Were you present when I invited the old staff to discuss farming and fishery?”
“I believe so, My Lord.”
“Please, remind me of their responses,” Lansius requested, prompting the squire to gather his thoughts before replying.
“About farming,” the squire started, “they complained about poor soil quality. They said they tried many methods, including plowing, but most of Korelia’s land remained barren.”
“But Korelia does manage to grow barley and wheat?”
“Only in the areas with the best soil, My Lord.”
Lansius nodded in acknowledgment. “And the matter of fishery?”
“They informed us that the river was too shallow and with few fish. In the past, a Lord attempted to dig a man-made lake, but it only resulted in a swamp and a breeding ground for undesirable insects.”
Lansius sighed softly, weighing the risks.
And they can’t use ducks to combat insects, because this world’s ducks are large, aggressive monsters, half the size of an ostrich.
Lansius knew well about them. Only the bravest men bred ducks. Even a few years old, ducks could trample farms and were strong enough to either jump or kick most fences. Their eggs and feathers were valuable, but sadly, their meat was difficult to cook.
The Lord of Korelia exhaled deeply. He had no experience in farming or fishery. Worse, he had no experience living in the steppe. He knew about yurts and cheese, but that was about it.
Last season, Lansius had tried consulting with Calub and Sir Callahan for assistance. They came up with several ideas but had to wait until the road cleared from mud and the rainy season.
Feeling stumped, he turned away from the window, grabbed his fur coat, and headed to the door. “Let’s ride a little.”
“Should I ask for Lady Audrey, My Lord?” asked Sterling.
Lansius almost chuckled. Audrey still avoided him for what happened a few days ago. “No need, just you and a few riders.”
When the weather permitted, Lansius forced himself to ride as practice and to ensure his horses’ stamina. Spring rides were especially important because the horses were restless after spending almost the entire winter in the stable. As their rider, Lansius felt responsible for taking them out as often as he could.
***
Lansius and his squire, Sterling, rode aimlessly through the countryside, allowing their horses to find their own paths. The landscape was a mosaic of vibrant colors, with the sun casting a warm glow over the spring grassland. Their journey eventually led them to a cluster of three yurts nestled among the grazing white sheep.
A shepherd with a round face and long brown hair emerged, a welcoming smile on his face. “Welcome, guest, welcome,” he greeted them warmly, noticing their fine clothing and horses.
Lansius looked at Sterling, who rode beside him, saying, “Let’s have a rest. Tell one to be on alert. The rest can dismount.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Sterling replied.
Upon hearing that, the shepherd’s reception grew even warmer. As they realized the guest was Lansius the Salt Giver, the shepherd’s family sprang into action, bustling about in a flurry of excitement.
The child dashed off to fetch water from the small stream, two women hurried to gather firewood, and an even older man, leaning on his cane, grinned happily as he held open the flap that served as their home’s door.
“Please, My Lord, come in and rest. I’ll prepare fresh drinks and sweets for you,” urged the shepherd.
Lansius and Sterling dismounted. “Thank you. I just need a place to rest my legs. Don’t let me bother you.”
“Please, My Lord, it’s a great honor to have you here,” the shepherd gestured politely, inviting the guest to his house.
The yurt was more spacious than it appeared. It was warm but airy and had an abundance of natural light coming in from above. The floor was covered by a combination of carpets, leather, and rugs.
Before entering, Lansius began to remove his boots to avoid tracking dirt inside, which immediately caused a commotion. The old man with a cane reached out to Lansius, attempting to stop the esteemed guest from taking off his footwear. The shepherd did the same, speaking rapidly in protest. Meanwhile, Sterling, alarmed by the sudden change in atmosphere, instinctively rested his hand on his hilt and yelled, “Don’t touch the Lord, stay away!”
Seeing their reaction, Lansius laughed, diffusing the confusion. Lansius was aware of the custom as he had heard dozens of stories from the staff regarding the Korelia and its culture, so he asked, “I insist on leaving my boots and entering barefoot; will that be acceptable?”
There was a back-and-forth argument, but the host, while a bit embarrassed, was exceedingly pleased. “Please, My Lord, our carpet isn’t clean.”
Lansius chuckled and entered barefoot. A table and cushion were provided for him, so he sat there and made himself comfortable. Sterling quickly followed and sat beside his Lord.
“Thank you for your hospitality. We brought gifts in return for your refreshments.” As Lansius said that, Sterling reached for his bag and opened it up for his Lord to decide.
“My Lord, please, you don’t have to,” the shepherd said bashfully.
“I insist,” Lansius said as he selected several items from the bag. “A lacquered comb for the women; salt and spices, also for the women; dried medicinal herbs for your father; and honeyed mead for our gracious host.”
Lansius’ gifts stirred up a commotion as the host initially refused them out of respect. However, Lansius knew the custom and insisted on offering the gifts.
Sterling could only blink. He had heard about the custom but had never experienced it firsthand.
As everyone settled down, the host poured a milky-gold beverage with a strong buttery aroma. With Cecile the cup-bearer on leave, Sterling did his best to scrutinize the drink. The butter tea was too rich for him, and he shook his head, not knowing whether it was safe or not.
Lansius laughed it off and drank heartily. In truth, he knew his lactose intolerance would cause issues later, but he couldn’t resist trying the unique beverage.
Just a cup... Oof, a bit strong smelling, but buttery smooth. Wait, a hint of tea?
Lansius realized the golden color must come from somewhere, so he inquired, “What did you use to make this?”
The host eagerly shared the ingredients. Lansius noticed dried leaves and asked for some along with boiled water, which the host happily provided.
Soon, the women and child returned and joined in the feast. They prepared the snacks over an open hearth at the center of the yurt.
Stirling, following instructions from Cecile tried to engage in conversation on behalf of their Lord. He asked about the winter, their herds, and recent news in this part of Korelia.
Though their dialect was difficult for Lansius to understand, he grasped that the winter had been milder, and spring had arrived early. The shepherd also personally thanked Lansius for his salt payments and mentioned that his brother and son were working in Korelia before winter, digging trenches and later in the workshops.
Lansius nodded happily.
The old man urged his son, the host, to bring another beverage. Lansius politely refused, but the host had brought a wineskin and poured two cups for them.
“Horse milk wine,” the old man introduced. Stirling drank it and his face said it all, much to the host’s delight.
Lansius sampled the alcoholic drink and found it more enjoyable than anticipated. Next, the snacks were served on a large wooden platter. He chose a honey-glazed baked pastry and a tofu white crunchy morsel.
“This one is made from dried yogurt,” the host explained, noticing Lansius’ curiosity.
Lansius tasted both, finding the sweetness refreshing but not overpowering. He glanced at Stirling, who seemed thoroughly impressed by the treats.
Around that time, Lansius took the cup of boiled dried leaves and smelled it.
Definitely smells like tea.
He took a sip and was taken aback by the bitter taste.
Smells like tea, colors like tea, but tastes like burnt charcoal.
“It’s good medicine for a long night with the ladies,” the host informed, and everyone burst into laughter.
As they enjoyed their snacks, the host prepared steamed dumplings filled with minced meat. When they were ready, Lansius accepted one graciously. He let it cool briefly before taking a bite, finding the mutton flavor quite strong but managing to swallow it down, pleasing the host.
A sauce would be perfect for this...
Soon, a vegetable dish with dried meat on the side was served.
“Well, this has certainly turned into a big feast,” Lansius remarked, bringing a smile to his host’s face.
***
After the feast, as a parting gift, the host opened one of his wooden boxes and pulled out two remarkably lightweight shawls. “A modest gift for your men,” he said, presenting the shawls to Lansius for him to bestow upon his men.
Intrigued by the shawls’ quality, Lansius furrowed his brow. “Why for my men?” he asked, examining the delicate, warm, yet strong fabric and its astonishing lightness. “Such a gift is fit for a Lord.”
The host shook his head modestly. “I wouldn’t dare, My Lord. These shawls are worn only by nomad families like us.”
The subject was of great interest to Lansius, so he dared to ask, “Friend, I apologize if this may offend you. Could you tell me about your family history?”
The shepherd appeared uncertain but glanced at the old man, who nodded, granting permission. “Our great-grandfather came from the Caladan Sea in the north.”
“The northern sea of grass,” Lansius acknowledged the name.
The host nodded and continued, “He and many of his relatives were enslaved during a raid, and somehow, they were smuggled this far south to Lowlandia. They labored for the old Lord in Korelia, who granted them their freedom on his deathbed.”
Lansius nodded respectfully, taking in the story.
“Now, we’re free, but not exactly welcomed to live in the town, so we live as our ancestors did, on the pastoral lands, grazing and dwelling in our yurts.”
Discrimination is rampant everywhere, even when they have the same skin color as Sterling. It’s simply because they’re different.
“How many of you live like this?” Lansius asked.
“Now, there are at least a hundred families,” the old man replied proudly. “Many more than when I was a child.”
Lansius was pleased to hear this. He had always thought that Korelia felt like a colony, with its people trying hard to live like those in Midlandia, but the land and climate were entirely different.
Here, it was more suitable for a pastoral lifestyle, and seeing these shepherds thrive confirmed his view.
With the quality of the shawls lingering in his mind and sensing a potential trade opportunity to elevate the entire Korelia, Lansius made his decision. “I would like to meet you all for a discussion. Perhaps a grand banquet on the west side of the castle. What do you think?”
***
Chapter 37
Children from the North
The first light of dawn broke through the dark clouds, casting a soft, golden hue over the small castle. The rainfall from the previous night had ceased, leaving the air cool and fresh. Lansius stood by the window, gazing at the transformed landscape outside.
The ditches had turned into a water canal, and some sections had inadvertently created a crude-looking irrigation system. It would have been a great success if it had been intentional, but Lansius had no such plan.
Despite his insistence that it was a mere coincidence, the people of Korelia praised him, believing their Lord was simply being humble.
Good things do happen sometimes.
As Lansius observed the canal-like structure, he wondered once more if the land could benefit from diverting the river stream slightly. A small man-made lake could prove advantageous, especially if it could support the fish delicacy he’d enjoyed in Torrea village.
“Sterling,” Lansius called, his gaze still fixed on the window.
“Yes, My Lord,” the young squire replied, bowing slightly.
“Were you present when I invited the old staff to discuss farming and fishery?”
“I believe so, My Lord.”
“Please, remind me of their responses,” Lansius requested, prompting the squire to gather his thoughts before replying.
“About farming,” the squire started, “they complained about poor soil quality. They said they tried many methods, including plowing, but most of Korelia’s land remained barren.”
“But Korelia does manage to grow barley and wheat?”
“Only in the areas with the best soil, My Lord.”
Lansius nodded in acknowledgment. “And the matter of fishery?”
“They informed us that the river was too shallow and with few fish. In the past, a Lord attempted to dig a man-made lake, but it only resulted in a swamp and a breeding ground for undesirable insects.”
Lansius sighed softly, weighing the risks.
And they can’t use ducks to combat insects, because this world’s ducks are large, aggressive monsters, half the size of an ostrich.
Lansius knew well about them. Only the bravest men bred ducks. Even a few years old, ducks could trample farms and were strong enough to either jump or kick most fences. Their eggs and feathers were valuable, but sadly, their meat was difficult to cook.
The Lord of Korelia exhaled deeply. He had no experience in farming or fishery. Worse, he had no experience living in the steppe. He knew about yurts and cheese, but that was about it.
Last season, Lansius had tried consulting with Calub and Sir Callahan for assistance. They came up with several ideas but had to wait until the road cleared from mud and the rainy season.
Feeling stumped, he turned away from the window, grabbed his fur coat, and headed to the door. “Let’s ride a little.”
“Should I ask for Lady Audrey, My Lord?” asked Sterling.
Lansius almost chuckled. Audrey still avoided him for what happened a few days ago. “No need, just you and a few riders.”
When the weather permitted, Lansius forced himself to ride as practice and to ensure his horses’ stamina. Spring rides were especially important because the horses were restless after spending almost the entire winter in the stable. As their rider, Lansius felt responsible for taking them out as often as he could.
***
Lansius and his squire, Sterling, rode aimlessly through the countryside, allowing their horses to find their own paths. The landscape was a mosaic of vibrant colors, with the sun casting a warm glow over the spring grassland. Their journey eventually led them to a cluster of three yurts nestled among the grazing white sheep.
A shepherd with a round face and long brown hair emerged, a welcoming smile on his face. “Welcome, guest, welcome,” he greeted them warmly, noticing their fine clothing and horses.
Lansius looked at Sterling, who rode beside him, saying, “Let’s have a rest. Tell one to be on alert. The rest can dismount.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Sterling replied.
Upon hearing that, the shepherd’s reception grew even warmer. As they realized the guest was Lansius the Salt Giver, the shepherd’s family sprang into action, bustling about in a flurry of excitement.
The child dashed off to fetch water from the small stream, two women hurried to gather firewood, and an even older man, leaning on his cane, grinned happily as he held open the flap that served as their home’s door.
“Please, My Lord, come in and rest. I’ll prepare fresh drinks and sweets for you,” urged the shepherd.
Lansius and Sterling dismounted. “Thank you. I just need a place to rest my legs. Don’t let me bother you.”
“Please, My Lord, it’s a great honor to have you here,” the shepherd gestured politely, inviting the guest to his house.
The yurt was more spacious than it appeared. It was warm but airy and had an abundance of natural light coming in from above. The floor was covered by a combination of carpets, leather, and rugs.
Before entering, Lansius began to remove his boots to avoid tracking dirt inside, which immediately caused a commotion. The old man with a cane reached out to Lansius, attempting to stop the esteemed guest from taking off his footwear. The shepherd did the same, speaking rapidly in protest. Meanwhile, Sterling, alarmed by the sudden change in atmosphere, instinctively rested his hand on his hilt and yelled, “Don’t touch the Lord, stay away!”
Seeing their reaction, Lansius laughed, diffusing the confusion. Lansius was aware of the custom as he had heard dozens of stories from the staff regarding the Korelia and its culture, so he asked, “I insist on leaving my boots and entering barefoot; will that be acceptable?”
There was a back-and-forth argument, but the host, while a bit embarrassed, was exceedingly pleased. “Please, My Lord, our carpet isn’t clean.”
Lansius chuckled and entered barefoot. A table and cushion were provided for him, so he sat there and made himself comfortable. Sterling quickly followed and sat beside his Lord.
“Thank you for your hospitality. We brought gifts in return for your refreshments.” As Lansius said that, Sterling reached for his bag and opened it up for his Lord to decide.
“My Lord, please, you don’t have to,” the shepherd said bashfully.
“I insist,” Lansius said as he selected several items from the bag. “A lacquered comb for the women; salt and spices, also for the women; dried medicinal herbs for your father; and honeyed mead for our gracious host.”
Lansius’ gifts stirred up a commotion as the host initially refused them out of respect. However, Lansius knew the custom and insisted on offering the gifts.
Sterling could only blink. He had heard about the custom but had never experienced it firsthand.
As everyone settled down, the host poured a milky-gold beverage with a strong buttery aroma. With Cecile the cup-bearer on leave, Sterling did his best to scrutinize the drink. The butter tea was too rich for him, and he shook his head, not knowing whether it was safe or not.
Lansius laughed it off and drank heartily. In truth, he knew his lactose intolerance would cause issues later, but he couldn’t resist trying the unique beverage.
Just a cup... Oof, a bit strong smelling, but buttery smooth. Wait, a hint of tea?
Lansius realized the golden color must come from somewhere, so he inquired, “What did you use to make this?”
The host eagerly shared the ingredients. Lansius noticed dried leaves and asked for some along with boiled water, which the host happily provided.
Soon, the women and child returned and joined in the feast. They prepared the snacks over an open hearth at the center of the yurt.
Stirling, following instructions from Cecile tried to engage in conversation on behalf of their Lord. He asked about the winter, their herds, and recent news in this part of Korelia.
Though their dialect was difficult for Lansius to understand, he grasped that the winter had been milder, and spring had arrived early. The shepherd also personally thanked Lansius for his salt payments and mentioned that his brother and son were working in Korelia before winter, digging trenches and later in the workshops.
Lansius nodded happily.
The old man urged his son, the host, to bring another beverage. Lansius politely refused, but the host had brought a wineskin and poured two cups for them.
“Horse milk wine,” the old man introduced. Stirling drank it and his face said it all, much to the host’s delight.
Lansius sampled the alcoholic drink and found it more enjoyable than anticipated. Next, the snacks were served on a large wooden platter. He chose a honey-glazed baked pastry and a tofu white crunchy morsel.
“This one is made from dried yogurt,” the host explained, noticing Lansius’ curiosity.
Lansius tasted both, finding the sweetness refreshing but not overpowering. He glanced at Stirling, who seemed thoroughly impressed by the treats.
Around that time, Lansius took the cup of boiled dried leaves and smelled it.
Definitely smells like tea.
He took a sip and was taken aback by the bitter taste.
Smells like tea, colors like tea, but tastes like burnt charcoal.
“It’s good medicine for a long night with the ladies,” the host informed, and everyone burst into laughter.
As they enjoyed their snacks, the host prepared steamed dumplings filled with minced meat. When they were ready, Lansius accepted one graciously. He let it cool briefly before taking a bite, finding the mutton flavor quite strong but managing to swallow it down, pleasing the host.
A sauce would be perfect for this...
Soon, a vegetable dish with dried meat on the side was served.
“Well, this has certainly turned into a big feast,” Lansius remarked, bringing a smile to his host’s face.
***
After the feast, as a parting gift, the host opened one of his wooden boxes and pulled out two remarkably lightweight shawls. “A modest gift for your men,” he said, presenting the shawls to Lansius for him to bestow upon his men.
Intrigued by the shawls’ quality, Lansius furrowed his brow. “Why for my men?” he asked, examining the delicate, warm, yet strong fabric and its astonishing lightness. “Such a gift is fit for a Lord.”
The host shook his head modestly. “I wouldn’t dare, My Lord. These shawls are worn only by nomad families like us.”
The subject was of great interest to Lansius, so he dared to ask, “Friend, I apologize if this may offend you. Could you tell me about your family history?”
The shepherd appeared uncertain but glanced at the old man, who nodded, granting permission. “Our great-grandfather came from the Caladan Sea in the north.”
“The northern sea of grass,” Lansius acknowledged the name.
The host nodded and continued, “He and many of his relatives were enslaved during a raid, and somehow, they were smuggled this far south to Lowlandia. They labored for the old Lord in Korelia, who granted them their freedom on his deathbed.”
Lansius nodded respectfully, taking in the story.
“Now, we’re free, but not exactly welcomed to live in the town, so we live as our ancestors did, on the pastoral lands, grazing and dwelling in our yurts.”
Discrimination is rampant everywhere, even when they have the same skin color as Sterling. It’s simply because they’re different.
“How many of you live like this?” Lansius asked.
“Now, there are at least a hundred families,” the old man replied proudly. “Many more than when I was a child.”
Lansius was pleased to hear this. He had always thought that Korelia felt like a colony, with its people trying hard to live like those in Midlandia, but the land and climate were entirely different.
Here, it was more suitable for a pastoral lifestyle, and seeing these shepherds thrive confirmed his view.
With the quality of the shawls lingering in his mind and sensing a potential trade opportunity to elevate the entire Korelia, Lansius made his decision. “I would like to meet you all for a discussion. Perhaps a grand banquet on the west side of the castle. What do you think?”
***
