Dreisterne

CHAPTER 24

The sun hung low over the rolling Rossland hills, its light dimmed by the haze of distant battle. Smoke drifted from the horizon where two noble houses clashed for pride and blood, their banners a blur of red and blue amid the chaos. Between them, along the narrow dirt road to Londinium, a merchant caravan creaked forward, all five carriages raising banners emblazoned with a golden sword entwined with a rose vine: the national emblem of Rossland. Any combatant who saw them turned away, as none were foolish enough to strike at fellow citizens under the Crown's protection.

"Well, this is a sight to get used to, innit?" Keith muttered, peering past the canvas flap of the lead wagon. "Two bloody lords knockin' each other's teeth out soon as the King looks the other way, and ordinary folks like us get trampled in the middle of it. Mental, this all is."

"Such is the nature of fiefdom politics, mein Freund," Harald began, folding his hands on his knee. "The moment a throne grows weak, the lords beneath it remember their own crowns. Each claims to fight for justice, faith, or the good of their kingdoms, but what they truly guard is their leverage in it. Their lands, their levies, their gold."

Keith snorted. "Leverage, eh? Sounds more like bickerin' over who gets the fattest slice of the pie. Whole countryside burns just so some puffed-up baron can show off his knights."

"Crude..." Harald admitted with a thin smile, "...but not inaccurate. Most nobles view the realm not as a home, but as a gameboard. They align with whomever seems likely to win the next hand, then weep when the pieces, or people, break."

Nathan leaned back from the driver's bench, his voice thoughtful. "I remember overhearing something like that from a couple of gentlemen back in Dunsgoil. To paraphrase: a fief's peace depends on its lord's fear of the crown, or fear of losing the peasants who feed him. Take that fear away, and pride fills the space instead."

Harald nodded approvingly. "Astute, Herr Nathan. Pride is a poison far more enduring than any I could brew. It festers in courts, and when the king's authority wanes, every noble believes he alone can cure the realm."

Keith sighed, scratching his beard. "Aye, well, they're doing a real fine job of that, what with the smoke an' all. If this is what passes for governance, I'll take my chances with bandits, thanks." He leaned back against the wagon's sideboard, arms crossed and brow furrowed. "So, H. I've known you for quite some time since Lyonsmeade. You may be a strange bloke at times, but you're a good person all in all. Wherever you go, I'll follow you in a heartbeat."

Harald stared at Keith for some time. "...did someone put anything funny into your porridge this morning, Herr Nimbus?"

Keith said, "Thankfully, no. But I still got to watch out. Don't want to end up like you and your beignets, you know?"

The friends had a round of chuckles after Harald tossed a piece of bread he was eating at Keith, who later continued. "Anyway, let's say you actually pull this off. House Dreisterne, banners, crests, squires polishing our boots and all that. What then? Are we gonna start telling farmers how deep to dig their ditches?"

Harald chuckled faintly, adjusting his gloves. "Himmel, Keith...you know me better than that. Besides, a house is more than indulgence and decrees. It is a responsibility, a promise that one's power serves something greater than one's own stomach. Should I succeed in founding House Dreisterne, I intend for us to stand as a beacon of bravery, integrity, und of course, prosperity."

Nathan turned from polishing his sword, half-grinning. "Courage, glory, and gold, huh? Sounds noble enough. But you're not worried? You just gave us a whole lecture about how pride poisons every noble house. What makes ours any different?"