Butcher of Gadobhra Chapter 508

Jorges was atop the new Hurlsford walls when he saw the travelers coming from the northeast, but gave them little thought. One person leading three oxen was dismissed with a glance, the walls taking up all of his attention. There wasn't time to build stone walls around the whole town, and there certainly wasn't the stone. Building Rowan Keep had used any surplus from the quarries near Sedgewick, so he'd had to get inventive. He had plenty of contract workers to dig and pile dirt, an inexhaustible supply of wood, and a Smoke mage to make it fireproof. Jon, Cham, and the other lumberjacks crafted the wood for the walls and laid them out between Sedgewick and Gadobhra. Fires were lit to produce the smoke Ozzy needed to make the wood immune to normal fire. Then it was all loaded onto the huge wagons and hauled to Hurlsford.

The defenses were going up fast. A thirty-foot deep dike now surrounded the town, leaving only two ways in. The sheer walls of hard-packed earth would make it difficult for any trapped creatures to escape, and at twenty feet wide, hard to leap across. On the other side, a nearly vertical ten-foot-high wall of earth was topped with another ten feet of wooden palisade, with walkways and towers every fifty feet. The town didn't have enough soldiers to man those walls to hold out in a huge battle that came from all sides, but nothing less than an army was getting into the town before reinforcements from Rowan Keep could get here.

The walls were only half the job. Knowing the power of the Icedevils, Jorges had dug deep, constructing enough shelters in the earth to hold most of the town. The shelters had a good well and enough preserved food to last for a week. More if they rationed. The emergency shelters eased some of the fears of the populace, as did seeing the Baron and Baroness everywhere in town, discussing the fortifications, the coming war, and working with the Mayor and town elders.

Baron William had visited the town, made some short speeches, and then committed his workers and resources to the town, erasing most of the concerns of the populace. He wasn't concerned about taxes, those would stay the same. He also wasn't asking for reimbursement from the town for the wagonloads of groats, preserved meats, and barrels of fruit and vegetables placed in the shelters. The older merchants didn't for a minute think he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart, but he was doing it, which was more than they could say about Baron Pennypincher. And seeing the Baron and Baroness gave many people of the town hope. These were fighting nobles, clad in no-nonsense armor and packing enchanted weapons. Both were in the third tier and used to battle. Stories of the Gopher Wars and the Crusade Against Ghoulish Aggression were sung of by the bards in every tavern. Winter might be coming, but The Butcher Baron and The Bloody Baroness were ready to fight.

Jorges took another look from his vantage point, satisfied that the wall was at the correct angle. Earth wasn't rock, no matter how hard the workers compressed it. If the angle was too steep, gravity would be a problem. Too flat, and things could climb it. With the materials he had to work with, he preferred a 10% slope on the front-facing side and 45% on the backside. He glanced again, something bothering him. The person with the oxen was closer, but something wasn't right. He'd built that road and was familiar with every stone and nearby tree. That girl in front was too tall, and the oxen were bigger. He jumped down from the wall and yelled for a few of the workers. Jon, Cham, Matilda, and Samuel came running.

"Not sure what's up, but we've got some visitors to meet. Let's be polite, but something feels off here."

"Like what, boss?"

"Like a blonde-haired girl over twelve feet tall leading three blue oxen that are taller at the shoulder than her head."

Cham looked at Jon, "You're in luck. You've always had a thing for that type."

Jon scowled at him, "Since when have I liked big women?"

Cham grinned, "I was talking about the oxes. I've seen you eyeing Betty's herd of cattle."

Before the two could go further, Georges held up a hand. "Play later, game faces for now. Let's go greet our visitor from the North. Ozzy mentioned getting an ox sent to him, this might be it."

Signe was not that impressed with the South, so far. It was hotter, flatter, and greener. Travel was easy, but it was also boring. They'd seen no travelers going their way, and only a few shambling units of Winter troops trying desperately to get home. The frozen dead were terrible at finding their way.  A few wolfpacks had circled them at night, but when the first few wolves died under her oxen's hooves, the rest ran off in terror. Ten miles back, a group of skinny mercenaries had demanded she pay to cross their bridge. It was so poorly made that she didn't think it could take the weight of her oxen, and she wasn't dividing them on one side or another. Her father always said, "Don't split the party." He was talking about military engagements, but she thought that applied here. She took her three large friends down one bank, forded the river, which only came to her chest, and walked up the other bank to continue the journey, declining their offer of services for coins.

But she must have done something to upset the bridge keepers. They said rude things about her cows and about her. She ignored them, despite wanting to bend them all into Gordian knots. Maybe on her way back once her delivery was done. Her father also said that fighting when no one was paying you to fight was bad business. They certainly weren't paying her, and had the gall to expect payment for crossing the river. She thought of claiming that she was only defending the honor of Raul, Elsie, and Bessie, and that her pay was the bridge fees in their pockets, but she doubted her father would see it that way. He had been more thoughtful after he limped home. He claimed that he'd enjoyed himself and fought in a great battle, and made new friends.

Her mother had been suspicious; her information from the women's spy network contradicted some of his stories. (Stories which matched the propaganda coming from the Winter Council very closely.) But he pointed out the large chunk of points he had earned in the battle, and the additional ranks in Negotiation, Diplomacy, and Stealth. Her mother was also suspicious of the deal he'd made to deliver an ox to a southlander. Her mother had a poor opinion of small people. She and great-aunt Farfenkal had grilled him for hours but his story was tight. Mother was still suspicious, but Father had calmed her fears.

"Not just any southlander, and not so small. Certainly not weak, like your cousin Yleg. He is a firewalker, a Captain from the Smoke. My bane, but also my savior and new friend. He was canny enough to strike a deal with me, which is why you have me home with one leg and not a promise of a wereguild that the council would pay in fifty years. I see...opportunities. Maybe some business? After all, if the Council is successful, a chunk of the southland will join the north and become much colder. We need to find out more. The Council will pay for information. And Signe is the right age to choose a husband. Where there is one titan who can beat up your poor father, perhaps there are more?"

Signe and her mother had shared a look and then turned that look on her father. "You want her to spy?"

"Spy? Oh, no. No one has paid for her to spy, and I'm not going to take any money for it. But perhaps you can write your father some letters with small details of interest? I'll sort through what I tell the Council, and what we don't. This makes us useful, and it gives her a reason for traveling south. The Council is suspicious and always expecting betrayal. I don't want them wondering about a simple trip to deliver an ox. 

"Which ox?"

"Raul. I promised my best, and that is certainly him."

Signe had raised Raul from a baby. "No, not Raul. You can't send him down to the cruel southlands by himself. He has needs and responsibilities to the herd!"

Brogthall had known this was coming. Everyone had a favorite ox. "What if we send two of his girlfriends with him? You can barter a herd, not just a single ox. Use the money for part of your dowry? They may have fancy things in the south. Find copper kettles, spices, and cookbooks. Things to please a husband."

Her mother had smiled slyly, in that weird way she got sometimes, talking to her father. "I don't remember you caring about copper pots on our wedding night."

He gave her the same look back. "You had so many other fun things in your chest that you wore. Kettles weren't on my mind."

Signe stomped her foot hard. "I'm right here, you two. Don't make me thaw a bucket of water to throw on you."

"No worries, daughter. We'll behave. My leg is still brittle, and the house will feel empty when you leave. Plenty of time for things then."

"I need money to have Finley craft me a chest for my dowry, more for a sturdy cart, and your book of maps so I don't get lost. Plus money for expenses."

Her parents sighed, and they began discussing her trip south. She got what she wanted, and a little bit more. Her mother had gone with her to see Finely, the Woodwright, in another enclave to the northeast. He was expensive, but he did the best work for those who had the coins to spend. They selected a stylish but traditional chest, and her mother surprised her by paying for expensive runework. "Enchanted locks, for sure, but I also want two runes of Lift and Run on the inside of the lid."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "It can be done, but there is a cost."

"I'll pay. We are a mercenary tribe. My great-great-grandmother told me tales of the Fall of Nigmund when the Miser-Tyrant shook the city for every penny. They lost everything, and the family only remained respectable because she was able to invoke Bride-Law, and her dowry was untouched."

Finley grinned, "And a fine dowry it must have been, equal to all the wealth of a great clan, more than ten Jarls could lift."

"Just so. I need that kind of chest."

"And I will make you a fine one. Since we don't have to worry about weight, let's talk about upgrading to Stone-Oak from the slopes of Mount Delgarond. Normally, too heavy for a chest, but nothing will be breaking in, and the locks will be ten times more secure."

Signe held her breath as they dickered and she got the chest of her dreams. She found out why a day later, when she helped her mother load two hundred heavy ingots of gold into the false bottom. "The Council will be needing funds after the war, win or lose. I have heard a rumor of secure places to hold treasures in the southlands. More secure even than investing in a Dragon Pyramid. If you find such a place, hide away this part of the family's wealth. And don't tell your father. Men work harder the less they know about the state of the treasury."

Her Dowry chest and the fortune in gold were in the back of the cart pulled by Raul as she walked some of the last miles to where she would find the Butcher of Sedgewick. She intended to walk around the small town she was approaching. Smallish folk were busy building walls, a good thing, and might help them survive longer. They were good stout walls, but not large enough that her father couldn't leap over them when fully grown. She saw a group of small folk walking from the town to greet her. She tried to remember what to say and what not to say. She decided to go with a wave and a smile, after all, she was just a simple girl, delivering an ox.