SMW C21 Return

The next morning, Alexander prepared to depart Southgate Watch alongside his escort—Uncle Reinhard, Father Hensfried, and their accompanying guards.

The garrison formed ranks to see them off, most displaying hollow, perfunctory respect. Only a handful showed genuine appreciation for their young lord's visit, including Roderic and several other loyal guards.

Among these was the grizzled sergeant who had praised the potato stew the previous day. He approached Alexander with something wrapped in rough cloth.

"Young lord, we're deeply grateful for the blessing you've given us. That potato stew has become my new favorite meal." The weathered veteran extended his gift with calloused hands. "Please accept this small token of our appreciation."

Alexander unwrapped the cloth to reveal a handcrafted wooden figure—a simple knight carved with surprising detail and skill. Though modest by modern standards, the craftsmanship was impressive for the medieval era.

"You made this yourself?" Alexander asked, examining the careful work.

The sergeant nodded proudly. "Aye, young lord. I've always been handy with carpentry." His expression grew thoughtful. "Originally carved it for my young son, but after the kindness you've shown us, I believe it belongs with you instead."

Alexander smiled genuinely at the heartfelt gesture. "I'll treasure it." He secured the wooden knight carefully in his travel pack. "What's your name, sergeant?"

"Osmund, young lord," the man replied, standing a bit straighter.

"Osmund," Alexander repeated thoughtfully. "I won't forget you."

The sergeant's weathered face brightened with honor. "Thank you, young lord. That means more than you know."

Alexander nodded respectfully to Osmund and the few loyal guards before Reinhard helped him mount his horse. As they began their journey, hoofbeats echoing off the stone walls, Alexander glanced back at the outpost.

Most guards had already dispersed to their duties without bothering to watch their departure. Only Roderic, Osmund, and a handful of others remained, waving farewell until the party disappeared from view.

Once they were well clear of the garrison, Reinhard voiced what had clearly been troubling him. "Why didn't we simply confront the commander about his corruption directly? Why do we need elaborate plans when dealing with peasants who are supposed to serve us?"

Alexander felt a familiar frustration at his uncle's simplistic worldview. Do all knights think so narrowly? he wondered with an internal sigh.

"It's not that simple, Uncle," he explained patiently. "Those guards significantly outnumber our party. There are dozens of them in that outpost. If we had confronted them directly, we might not have left alive."

Reinhard snorted dismissively. "They wouldn't dare harm nobility! The very suggestion is preposterous!"

"They've been neglected for years while risking their lives defending our borders," Alexander countered. "Desperate men with weapons and nothing left to lose absolutely would dare—especially if they believe they're already condemned."

The sobering truth of this assessment settled over Reinhard, tempering his indignation with reluctant understanding.

Reinhard fell silent for several moments before asking the crucial question: "What exactly do you plan to do about them, young lord?"

Alexander remained quiet as he considered their current situation. Seated behind his uncle on horseback because the barony couldn't afford a proper carriage—this poverty was itself part of the problem they faced.

"First, we must address the root cause of corruption: poverty itself," Alexander finally said.

Reinhard nodded but still looked puzzled.

"When guards can't feed their families on official wages, they turn to illegal means," Alexander explained. "So we solve corruption by eliminating its source—pay them properly, perhaps even generously, so they have no incentive to steal."

"What?!" Reinhard's eyes widened in disbelief. "Isn't that rewarding their crimes?"

"Better wages are only part of the solution—we'll use both carrots and sticks," Alexander clarified.

"Carrots and sticks?" Reinhard raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar phrase.

"A metaphor for rewards and punishments," Alexander explained patiently. "We approach them gradually so they feel unthreatened, meanwhile collecting evidence of their crimes. After gaining their trust through improved conditions, we execute the ringleaders as examples." His amber eyes turned cold with calculation. "Because we treated them well initially, executing corrupt leaders won't damage Father's reputation—we have evidence, we gave them chances to reform, and the punishment fits proven crimes. Then we replace the leadership while sparing the followers, perhaps requiring them to work without pay temporarily. We need border guards, after all."

Reinhard couldn't help but gasp at the sophisticated strategy.

"This is just a rough plan I've conceived," Alexander admitted with surprising modesty. "Once I refine the details, it will be more comprehensive." He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with strategic anticipation. "Executing this properly will likely take a full year."

Sweet merciful Lord, Reinhard thought as he stared at his six-year-old nephew, is he truly chosen by God... or by something far darker? The boy's cunning was both impressive and deeply unsettling.

---

The journey from Southgate Watch to Castle Eisenberg proved mercifully short—only an hour and a half of direct travel without interruptions.

The castle gates swung open immediately upon recognizing their party. As they entered the courtyard, two Great Danes bounded forward with enthusiastic barking, their massive forms nearly knocking over stable boys in their eagerness.

"Those dogs definitely missed me," Reinhard smiled warmly as the enormous hounds circled his horse. "It's been weeks since I left, after all."

Alexander smiled at this display. Despite his uncle's simplistic worldview and violent tendencies, his genuine love for animals remained one of his more endearing qualities.

Standing in the courtyard to greet them were Baron Aldric and Lady Ermelinde, their faces bright with anticipation and relief.

"Alexander!" Ermelinde called out, her voice warm with maternal joy as she hurried forward to embrace her returning son.

Reinhard carefully helped Alexander down from his horse, steadying the boy as his feet touched the familiar cobblestones of home. Before Alexander could fully find his balance, Ermelinde swept him into a fierce embrace.

"Oh, my precious boy! I missed you terribly!" she exclaimed, holding him as if she feared he might disappear again. Her silver hair caught the afternoon light as she pulled back to study his face anxiously. "You look thinner—have you been eating properly? And are you hurt anywhere?"

Aldric approached with measured steps, his expression carrying both pride and relief. "I've received reports that you successfully introduced potatoes throughout the entire barony," he said, his voice warm with approval. "Such an accomplishment deserves recognition."

Alexander smiled and offered an elegant bow despite his mother's continued fussing. "Thank you, Father. I'm honored by your praise."

Ermelinde wasn't about to be outdone in expressing her pride. "You've done magnificently, my brilliant son! You definitely inherited your intelligence from me!" She beamed with maternal satisfaction. "My sweet boy, you've truly matured during this journey. Before long, you'll surpass even your father as a baron!"

Alexander chuckled softly at his mother's enthusiastic confidence. "You're too kind, Mother."

Ermelinde's eyes sparkled with joy as she affectionately rubbed her cheek against his, completely unconcerned with maintaining dignified appearances. Aldric watched this display of maternal devotion with patient fondness, accustomed to his wife's demonstrative nature.

"You must all be exhausted after weeks of travel," Aldric observed, finally intervening to rescue his son from his mother's overwhelming affection. "Please, come inside. I've asked Fritz to prepare a proper homecoming feast for you."

"Thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Father Hensfried said respectfully.

"The gratitude should be mine, Father," Aldric replied with genuine warmth. "You've watched over my son and supported his mission admirably."

"It has been my privilege to guide one chosen by the Almighty," Father Hensfried responded with reverent conviction.

They proceeded into the Great Hall, where familiar tapestries and the comforting scent of home welcomed them back. The long oak table had been set with the castle's finest plates and goblets, while torches cast dancing shadows across the stone walls.

Fritz appeared with his usual efficiency, leading a procession of mess boys carrying steaming dishes and pitchers of ale and wine. The head chef's face glowed with obvious pleasure at serving his young lord after the successful mission.

Alexander settled gratefully into his customary seat, feeling the tension of weeks of travel finally beginning to ease. Around the table, the conversation flowed naturally—warm family discussions about small castle matters, gentle inquiries about the journey's comforts, and shared laughter over familiar jokes.

By unspoken agreement, no one mentioned the serious business of corruption, strategic planning, or the darker discoveries made during their travels. This was simply a family celebrating their son's safe return and successful first mission as future lord of Eisenfurt.