Harvest is a peaceful kingdom.
After the Great War forcefully disbanded the ancient kingdoms and humanity was forced to find a new home, the whole of the race, I would say our race but I don’t really count anymore, came together to ensure their survival. The elites of every kingdom, empire, city-state, and settlement of every size under one banner, fighting for one purpose. They could do nothing about the rampaging draconids that had taken their homes but felling the natives of the continent were well within their capabilities.
They attacked the manabeasts, both those aggressive enough to be called monsters and those too inconvenient to let be, with a vengeance. Within a couple generations, anything that could threaten the burgeoning kingdom was either eradicated, domesticated, or chased to remote regions where they couldn’t do any harm.
Afterward establishing supremacy over the beasts, the tradition of cooperation continued. That’s not to say everyone got along. Once the immediate problem of a settling of a new land was handled, the united people quickly separated into different factions and began jockeying for power. Only outright warfare was frowned upon. After several generations, aversion to war became a tradition. People simply don’t fight these days.
As such, the martial and magical masters of the present have few challenges to test themselves against. Soldiers are less dedicated than hunters when it comes to slaying manabeasts, doing so only on royal command, a process that can take up to weeks to finish, as opposed to the guilds that dispatch threats on commission from the community.
Knight orders are a mixed bag. Most of them work for the lords that finance them and their duties reflect the ideals of said sponsor. Some are mercenaries that are paid to put down threats and police the territory. Others are symbolic orders that do good deeds to boost the reputation of the house they represent. Chivalrous knights that intervene on matters of honor, welfare knights that give basic medical care to those who can’t afford or travel to a healer, and all kinds of do-gooders. With the exception of the northern orders, they can fight but they aren’t defined by their martial prowess.
The same for city guards and militia. It doesn’t take much skill to chase after the odd thief or search for children that have wandered off. But between the three, there isn’t much violence. Or so I thought, growing up. I’ve come to question that belief in recent years. One thing in particular really. The apparent infestation of bandits on the King’s Road.
It's not a road, but the road. It connects all the major cities of the kingdom; Summer Spire, the gleaming cesspool of a capital, Fortitude, the old capital, Quest, the city of adventure, Rosentheim, the breadbasket of the kingdom, Sleepy Harbor, the wealthiest city under the golden hand of the Guiness patriarch, and Victory, the shield of the north. If the king is the brain of Harvest, the King’s Road is its heart, its lifeline.
So why, by all the blessed saints, is it apparently crawling with a seemingly endless number of bandits, brigands, and criminals?
It’s a recent trend, I believe, as I can’t remember having so many troubles while traveling as a child. Back when we were still welcomed in the Tome family’s ancestral estate, traveling on the King’s Road was two days of bore. There was always the threat of a manabeast attack, rare as they are that close to Summer Spire, but the worst I expected to happen in those days was a wheel breaking.
My first misfortune on the road, my abduction at the hands of the madman Crowley Cain, wasn’t enough to make me suspect a problem with the kingdom at large. Everyone can have one bad experience. Besides, said bad experience led to the greatest fortune of my life so it’s hard to look at it in a bad way.
I had further misfortunes on the road returning home from the Enchanted Forest but those I expected. Kierra draws attention wherever she goes. Curious people will do stupid things to get closer to the objects of their fascinations. It didn’t help that the elf, recently freed from two decades of solitary confinement, was just as curious about them and full of energy.
No, it’s the bandits that convinced me the road is cursed. The very next time I had cause to use it, our carriage was set upon by bandits. Led by a man called Rat of all things. Not the name his mother gave him, so he claimed and I hope, but his moniker all the same.
A man with overdeveloped senses for both theatrics and survival. He alone was smart enough to recognize the danger of my wife when she appeared, his immediate retreat sparing him from an arrow in an uncomfortable place.
Only to have the misfortune of waylaying us a second time as we left the capital for the Grand Hall. Again, it wasn’t a horrible event, seeing as the bandits took a swift beating and I gained several servants from the encounter, but getting ambushed by brigands back-to-back is ridiculous for a supposedly safe kingdom.
The very next time I had cause to use the road, heading north to join Victory’s yearly campaign, our procession was set upon by manabeasts. Pests really, but we were attacked for the third time in as many journeys. In a supposedly safe kingdom.
“Oi, do you have gold clogging your ears?! I said get yer asses out of there, now! Lest you want your shit to come out of a few new holes!”
And now, for the fourth time in a row, I am being set upon by some threat while traveling along the King’s Road. This is appalling. Sure, the idiots blocking the road can only be called a threat in the very strictest definition of the word and yes, I’m sure that I’m the anomaly here, not the road, but it is still insulting.
What is the king doing? Really, does the man running the kingdom do anything besides sit in a chair and look pretty? Ah, no. That would be the queen’s job. So that bastard’s well and truly useless.
“Oh, good.” Kierra reaches under the seat, where she keeps her weapons. I expect her to pull out her bow but instead, she chooses a handaxe. Seems she wants things close and bloody. “The prey has come to us.”
A part of me thinks I should intervene. Almost expect it of myself after my performance in Victory. Alana does as well, from the nervous way she glances between me and Kierra. Aw, my poor sweetie is worried about another fight.
There’s no need for her concern. It would seem that I have not transformed into a saint, despite my exaggerated outpouring of empathy for the hunters we decimated. The only thing I feel for the dead men walking outside my carriage is annoyance for stopping us.
Perhaps it’s because they’re criminals? What I objected to most about the hunters’ deaths was that they were innocents. People dragged into a conflict they didn’t understand as the unwitting tools of an egomaniac. I saw myself in them. A selfish reason to want to preserve lives but the best I can manage, it seems. I see nothing of myself in bandits.
There is also a small kernel of excitement at the thought of Kierra laying waste to them. There’s a chance that the act will make her feel better when nothing else has. Savage she may be, my wife is not one for rampant slaughter. She does, however, take a perverse pleasure in slapping down unworthy challengers. I am more than willing to sacrifice a few ruffians for her smile.
Seems I’m still far from being a good person.
“A moment, everyone.”
The crowded carriage turns to Yulia. She smiles at us and bounces Allen in her lap, drawing happy giggles from the boy. “I take it from the weapon in Kierra’s hand, you’re intending for this encounter to come to a violent end?”
“That is how these things go,” I say. I would expect someone from the north to understand as much.
“Normally, yes, but that is the kind of thinking we’re trying to move away from, isn’t it? This is an excellent opportunity to practice our diplomatic skills.”
“We don’t negotiate with bandits,” Alana says slowly, her opinion of the suggestion evident from her tone.
“These types are not worth the words,” Kierra agrees. I think I can see the hint of a scowl in her furrowed brows. Someone is looking forward to the bloodshed.
“Few criminals are worth the effort, as you say. If people only got what they deserved, there would be no need for things like mercy and salvation. The guilds of Quest hardly deservediplomacy, being a glorified gang whose agents have made an attempt on your life, but we’re striving for it anyway, aren’t we?” Her smile widens, becoming almost blinding. “It isn’t a common response to banditry but those who rise above common behavior are the ones we admire.”
“I don’t particularly care to be admired by the masses.” I care about the opinions of my wives and my clan, who I know won’t think less of me for disregarding the fates of those wanting to rob me.
“I could use the practice.”
“More like you want to show off,” Alana grumbles.
“…the snow bunny has a point.” Kierra returns her weapon to its siblings. She glances at Yulia before facing me with a grin. “It would be good to see her tongue in action.”
Damn my dirty mind for the places it takes me. My elf doesn’t make it any easier. She knew exactly what those words would do to me.
She doesn’t expect what they’d do to Alana. The knight-to-be leans toward the elf and practically growls in her ear, “Don’t even joke about that. I don’t want that pervert getting any ideas.”
Kierra is unbothered by the inherent threat in the words, putting their heads together and lowering her voice. “Make me.”
“Alright!” I say a bit hastily, eager to get Yulia out of the carriage so the conversation between my wives, one pending, can escalate. “Show us what you can do.”
“Thank you. Now, to make this work, I’m going to need a few things.”
Harvest is a peaceful kingdom.
After the Great War forcefully disbanded the ancient kingdoms and humanity was forced to find a new home, the whole of the race, I would say our race but I don’t really count anymore, came together to ensure their survival. The elites of every kingdom, empire, city-state, and settlement of every size under one banner, fighting for one purpose. They could do nothing about the rampaging draconids that had taken their homes but felling the natives of the continent were well within their capabilities.
They attacked the manabeasts, both those aggressive enough to be called monsters and those too inconvenient to let be, with a vengeance. Within a couple generations, anything that could threaten the burgeoning kingdom was either eradicated, domesticated, or chased to remote regions where they couldn’t do any harm.
Afterward establishing supremacy over the beasts, the tradition of cooperation continued. That’s not to say everyone got along. Once the immediate problem of a settling of a new land was handled, the united people quickly separated into different factions and began jockeying for power. Only outright warfare was frowned upon. After several generations, aversion to war became a tradition. People simply don’t fight these days.
As such, the martial and magical masters of the present have few challenges to test themselves against. Soldiers are less dedicated than hunters when it comes to slaying manabeasts, doing so only on royal command, a process that can take up to weeks to finish, as opposed to the guilds that dispatch threats on commission from the community.
Knight orders are a mixed bag. Most of them work for the lords that finance them and their duties reflect the ideals of said sponsor. Some are mercenaries that are paid to put down threats and police the territory. Others are symbolic orders that do good deeds to boost the reputation of the house they represent. Chivalrous knights that intervene on matters of honor, welfare knights that give basic medical care to those who can’t afford or travel to a healer, and all kinds of do-gooders. With the exception of the northern orders, they can fight but they aren’t defined by their martial prowess.
The same for city guards and militia. It doesn’t take much skill to chase after the odd thief or search for children that have wandered off. But between the three, there isn’t much violence. Or so I thought, growing up. I’ve come to question that belief in recent years. One thing in particular really. The apparent infestation of bandits on the King’s Road.
It's not a road, but the road. It connects all the major cities of the kingdom; Summer Spire, the gleaming cesspool of a capital, Fortitude, the old capital, Quest, the city of adventure, Rosentheim, the breadbasket of the kingdom, Sleepy Harbor, the wealthiest city under the golden hand of the Guiness patriarch, and Victory, the shield of the north. If the king is the brain of Harvest, the King’s Road is its heart, its lifeline.
So why, by all the blessed saints, is it apparently crawling with a seemingly endless number of bandits, brigands, and criminals?
It’s a recent trend, I believe, as I can’t remember having so many troubles while traveling as a child. Back when we were still welcomed in the Tome family’s ancestral estate, traveling on the King’s Road was two days of bore. There was always the threat of a manabeast attack, rare as they are that close to Summer Spire, but the worst I expected to happen in those days was a wheel breaking.
My first misfortune on the road, my abduction at the hands of the madman Crowley Cain, wasn’t enough to make me suspect a problem with the kingdom at large. Everyone can have one bad experience. Besides, said bad experience led to the greatest fortune of my life so it’s hard to look at it in a bad way.
I had further misfortunes on the road returning home from the Enchanted Forest but those I expected. Kierra draws attention wherever she goes. Curious people will do stupid things to get closer to the objects of their fascinations. It didn’t help that the elf, recently freed from two decades of solitary confinement, was just as curious about them and full of energy.
No, it’s the bandits that convinced me the road is cursed. The very next time I had cause to use it, our carriage was set upon by bandits. Led by a man called Rat of all things. Not the name his mother gave him, so he claimed and I hope, but his moniker all the same.
A man with overdeveloped senses for both theatrics and survival. He alone was smart enough to recognize the danger of my wife when she appeared, his immediate retreat sparing him from an arrow in an uncomfortable place.
Only to have the misfortune of waylaying us a second time as we left the capital for the Grand Hall. Again, it wasn’t a horrible event, seeing as the bandits took a swift beating and I gained several servants from the encounter, but getting ambushed by brigands back-to-back is ridiculous for a supposedly safe kingdom.
The very next time I had cause to use the road, heading north to join Victory’s yearly campaign, our procession was set upon by manabeasts. Pests really, but we were attacked for the third time in as many journeys. In a supposedly safe kingdom.
“Oi, do you have gold clogging your ears?! I said get yer asses out of there, now! Lest you want your shit to come out of a few new holes!”
And now, for the fourth time in a row, I am being set upon by some threat while traveling along the King’s Road. This is appalling. Sure, the idiots blocking the road can only be called a threat in the very strictest definition of the word and yes, I’m sure that I’m the anomaly here, not the road, but it is still insulting.
What is the king doing? Really, does the man running the kingdom do anything besides sit in a chair and look pretty? Ah, no. That would be the queen’s job. So that bastard’s well and truly useless.
“Oh, good.” Kierra reaches under the seat, where she keeps her weapons. I expect her to pull out her bow but instead, she chooses a handaxe. Seems she wants things close and bloody. “The prey has come to us.”
A part of me thinks I should intervene. Almost expect it of myself after my performance in Victory. Alana does as well, from the nervous way she glances between me and Kierra. Aw, my poor sweetie is worried about another fight.
There’s no need for her concern. It would seem that I have not transformed into a saint, despite my exaggerated outpouring of empathy for the hunters we decimated. The only thing I feel for the dead men walking outside my carriage is annoyance for stopping us.
Perhaps it’s because they’re criminals? What I objected to most about the hunters’ deaths was that they were innocents. People dragged into a conflict they didn’t understand as the unwitting tools of an egomaniac. I saw myself in them. A selfish reason to want to preserve lives but the best I can manage, it seems. I see nothing of myself in bandits.
There is also a small kernel of excitement at the thought of Kierra laying waste to them. There’s a chance that the act will make her feel better when nothing else has. Savage she may be, my wife is not one for rampant slaughter. She does, however, take a perverse pleasure in slapping down unworthy challengers. I am more than willing to sacrifice a few ruffians for her smile.
Seems I’m still far from being a good person.
“A moment, everyone.”
The crowded carriage turns to Yulia. She smiles at us and bounces Allen in her lap, drawing happy giggles from the boy. “I take it from the weapon in Kierra’s hand, you’re intending for this encounter to come to a violent end?”
“That is how these things go,” I say. I would expect someone from the north to understand as much.
“Normally, yes, but that is the kind of thinking we’re trying to move away from, isn’t it? This is an excellent opportunity to practice our diplomatic skills.”
“We don’t negotiate with bandits,” Alana says slowly, her opinion of the suggestion evident from her tone.
“These types are not worth the words,” Kierra agrees. I think I can see the hint of a scowl in her furrowed brows. Someone is looking forward to the bloodshed.
“Few criminals are worth the effort, as you say. If people only got what they deserved, there would be no need for things like mercy and salvation. The guilds of Quest hardly deservediplomacy, being a glorified gang whose agents have made an attempt on your life, but we’re striving for it anyway, aren’t we?” Her smile widens, becoming almost blinding. “It isn’t a common response to banditry but those who rise above common behavior are the ones we admire.”
“I don’t particularly care to be admired by the masses.” I care about the opinions of my wives and my clan, who I know won’t think less of me for disregarding the fates of those wanting to rob me.
“I could use the practice.”
“More like you want to show off,” Alana grumbles.
“…the snow bunny has a point.” Kierra returns her weapon to its siblings. She glances at Yulia before facing me with a grin. “It would be good to see her tongue in action.”
Damn my dirty mind for the places it takes me. My elf doesn’t make it any easier. She knew exactly what those words would do to me.
She doesn’t expect what they’d do to Alana. The knight-to-be leans toward the elf and practically growls in her ear, “Don’t even joke about that. I don’t want that pervert getting any ideas.”
Kierra is unbothered by the inherent threat in the words, putting their heads together and lowering her voice. “Make me.”
“Alright!” I say a bit hastily, eager to get Yulia out of the carriage so the conversation between my wives, one pending, can escalate. “Show us what you can do.”
“Thank you. Now, to make this work, I’m going to need a few things.”
