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Chapter 44

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

“Knocked out?” Hannei asked.

“Yep,” Calub confirmed.

“Tourniquet and hourglass?” Hannei continued.

“Ready,” Margo, the page boy, responded.

“Okay, maester, you may begin.” At Hannei’s command, the physician nodded and started making an incision on little Tia’s right ankle. Fresh blood started to flow as the scalpel, the town barber’s finest, started its work on the little girl’s skin.

At Hannei’s insistence, the tools had been boiled to remove impurities.

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, monitor Tia’s breathing. Notify us at once if there’s any change,” Hannei instructed. She was leading this operation.

“As suspected, the ankle bones are fused. We need to break this,” the maester announced calmly, picking up a wooden mallet and a small bronze chisel, both disinfected with alcohol.

Hannei and Calub held Tia’s leg and calf securely as the maester, a man in his forties with sharp eyes and a thin beard, tapped the bone lightly several times. The sight and sound were distressing. Margo and Timmy shuddered at each muffled noise.

Hannei helped with the dressing, using a clean linen cloth as gauze.

The physician diligently informed Hannei, explaining the deformations in the connecting sinew and muscle, likely a result of the wolf attack. With precise movements, he proceeded to stitch the skin back together.

Hannei’s golden brown eyes flashed, revealing her nervousness, yet she nodded in affirmation several times.

The maester used some linen to dress the ankle but left it without a bandage. The calf area started to turn blue and swell. “I’m done,” he announced.

“Thank you, 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.

“Start the hourglass,” Hannei directed Margo, her right hand hovering above Tia’s calf. 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.

Every hour, Hannei repeated the verses four times. Throughout the morning, scabs formed on the stitches, and the bluish bruises started to fade. New skin began to grow in the area.

By noon, the swelling had significantly decreased. Calub, accustomed to the lengthy procedure, periodically brought Hannei drinks and snacks.

The physician observed the recovery with satisfaction. In between Hannei’s sessions, he examined the bones as much as possible with his fingers, ensuring they were properly aligned. He remained until sundown when Timmy escorted him home.

Hannei’s ritual continued unchanged. She recited her verse four times each hour, maintaining her hand above the healing area for some time as though channeling energy into it.

Hours turned into the evening, and then the night. The flickering light of the candles marked the passage of time as they burnt down, their wax slowly melting away.

By the time supper was served, over twelve hours had passed since the beginning of the process. Exhaustion began to pull at Hannei’s body, the lack of sleep draining her strength. After each session, she retreated to her bed in the adjacent room for a brief rest.

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 of repetition 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. Hannei thanked Margo for brewing a spiced light ale that provided her some relief.

The physician arrived early, allowing Calub to get some much-needed rest. However, his rest was brief as Tia woke up, prompting him to administer a dose of painkillers. As Tia was too young for another dose of poppy milk, this was their only option.

Administering the dose proved difficult, as Tia vomited a few times. 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 washing 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 a stinging pain in her leg.

The wound was healing well. The swelling had subsided, and the skin around the wound had returned to a healthy color. Tia began to feel an itch in her calf, which Hannei deemed as “another good sign”.

Despite her exhaustion, Hannei continued her rhythmic recitations. Dark circles had formed under her eyes from getting only a few moments of sleep since the night before.

A sudden commotion outside the house startled everyone inside. The sound of several people entering the premises so late at night was alarming. Hannei looked 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. This action left Tia puzzled, as she was unfamiliar with 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 as—“

“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.”

 

***