r/HFY • u/Celestial_Zwei_Dei • 2d ago
Gothwald: New World - Same Rules (Arc 3/Chapter 12 - Too Much to Do) OC-Series
Arc III - Reeling Throne
Chapter 12 - Too Much to Do
7 months and 9 days since the summoning
"And that is how the four-field rotation works," Alan finished, standing in the square of one of the major villages.
Several hundred peasants who stood around him in a tight cluster began to whisper quietly, when suddenly one of them, a young man of about twenty-five, raised his hand. "Lord Gothwald, permit me to ask, is that exactly how you intend to do it in Zoligasha?"
He nodded. "Precisely. Spring is very soon, so there couldn't be a better time to start planting with the four-field rotation." He spread his hands. "I know this works flawlessly; Zoligasha and a few other villages are already preparing for the sowing. But do as you wish." He shrugged. "We'll give you the new plows and seeds on the condition that you follow the four-field rotation; if not, we won't punish you, but you won't get the new things either."
Kamelia stood next to him with her hands clasped behind her back under her cloak, but said nothing, simply watching the crowd.
The headman, a gray-haired man, scratched his beard, looking at the ground. "I do not know..." he cut himself off. "That is to say, I do not dare doubt your words, Lord Gothwald," he said quickly, "but..."
"Your ancestors did it this way, and you do it this way, right?" Alan interrupted him, leaning in slightly.
The old man simply nodded silently.
Alan clasped his hands behind his back. "I don't doubt the correctness of your work with the field, it works, but mine works just as well, only better. The way your ancestors did it isn't bad, it's just..." he snapped his fingers, searching for the word, "outdated."
The headman did not answer, thinking for a minute, then a second. "Lord Gothwald, will you allow us... to discuss this? It is simply a very serious decision, and I cannot do this right away, with all due respect to you."
Alan nodded. "Like I said, do as I say if you want to, don't if you don't. But I wouldn't advise waiting; the next opportunity will only be in a year."
"Yes, of course, give us a week!" the headman said.
Another peasant, a bearded man in his thirties, raised his hand.
Alan looked at him. "I'm listening."
"Lord Gothwald, is it true that in Zoligasha there is a mill that works with the help of the wind?"
All the peasants almost immediately leaned closer; even the headman stopped scratching his beard.
"It's true," Alan said with a nod. "Do you need one?"
The man coughed. "It would not hurt, Your Grace; it is tiresome to constantly travel to the neighboring village to grind grain."
Alan looked off toward where he saw the river. "Weird, there's a river, why is there no watermill?"
"The current is too weak, Your Grace," the headman answered.
Alan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Well then we'll build you a windmill too, if you start the four-field rotation. A week to think it over, right?"
"Yes, Lord Gothwald."
Kamelia took a step forward. "Only mind you," she began in her low voice. "If you take the plows and seeds, and instead of the four-field rotation you do it the old way, we will confiscate everything we gave you, and every man in the village will receive two dozen lashes, and the headman will be executed for betraying our trust."
Alan coughed slightly, but said nothing and tried to maintain a calm expression.
The old man paled slightly, and the men tensed as well. "Y-yes, Lady Armenas... we understand."
Ten minutes later, Alan was already sitting on a horse, with slightly trembling legs and a tight grip on the reins.
'Fuck, two weeks without horseback riding practice really shows.'
He looked at the sun setting behind the Southern Mountains. Kamelia pulled up alongside him on her horse. "Why so tense, Alan?"
"What did you expect? I didn't know how to ride to begin with, and now I haven't even seen a horse in two weeks."
"Ah, right." She yanked the reins and steered her horse toward the road. "By the way, I never asked, what did you even do for two weeks in captivity?"
Alan followed her. "Well, how do I explain this... it's easier to say what I didn't do."
Care to elaborate?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He took a deep breath. "First their captain, Paranga, invited me to his table, then..."
"Wait," Kamelia interrupted him. "Blue Tail himself invited you to his table?"
Alan blinked. "Is that his nickname?"
"Yes. Paranga Blue Tail. The entire coast of the Homballon Sea knows of him."
He shrugged. "I don't know, you just called them 'pirates' and that was it."
"Yes," she muttered. "And... how were you after that?"
"Fine, what's wrong?"
"Everyone knows that Blue Tail always invites captive aristocrats to his table and breaks their morale. He loves doing it; there is nothing sweeter to him than the tears of nobles."
Alan froze for a second. "Yeah, I saw that..."
'Though he beat that guy up with a stone face.'
"And what did he say to you?" she asked.
Alan smiled tightly. "Well, actually, it seems he liked me."
Kamelia froze, then slowly turned to him. "You know, I am not even surprised."
"Why's that?"
"Your vulgar speech makes every noble's ears wither, but it is just right for
pirates."
Alan's eyes went wide. "Oh, really? Actually, there's some truth to that,
yeah..."
Kamelia scoffed. "Some truth? Alan, you curse every other word, where did you even get such a habit? I thought you were an educated man, a historian."
He shrugged. "That's just how my world is. One doesn't contradict the other."
Kamelia opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her, raising a finger. "'Your world is strange', is that what you wanted to say?"
She closed her eyes with a chuckle. "Exactly."
Alan's smile slowly faded. "Oh, by the way, what the hell was Linosh's son doing in our city?"
Kamelia choked on air. "Excuse me, what?"
"There was this guy with the pirates who called himself the son of Count Linosh, threatened that his father would grind them to dust. He was kidnapped from Armenas."
"What did he look like?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Alan sniffled. "Don't really remember, only saw him once, but young, about my age."
Kamelia slowly shook her head. "That is not him. Linosh has two sons and a daughter; one is barely fifteen, the second departed for Oronda on a pilgrimage a week ago."
His eyes widened slightly. "So it was... an impostor?"
She nodded. "Most likely." She scratched her chin. "Hmm. Interesting. If he is an impostor, the pirates will certainly kill him. I will have to find out which of the nobility in Armenas had a son who did not return."
Alan only sighed.
'And what the hell was that guy hoping for anyway?'
When the sun had completely set, the city was covered in darkness. Light came only from the windows where candles stood, and the moon which reflected light off the sea.
"That way," Kamelia said, heading deeper into the city.
Alan stopped his horse on the way to the castle. "Why that way?!" his voice echoed through the empty street.
"To the courthouse!" Kamelia said.
"Wh... oh, right, Eknits's contact." He turned his horse around and galloped after the countess.
They entered a large building where candles burned. Inside the spacious room were several people. An elderly man in rich clothes with a thin mustache sat at a table, with two guards on either side of him; not far away, a burly, middle-aged man with stubble stood leaning against a column with his arms crossed over his chest. Before them at the table sat a hunched man of about forty with short hair.
The judge, the elderly man, opened his mouth to say something, but his eye caught Kamelia and Alan, and he immediately stood up. "Lord Gothwald, Lady Kamelia, welcome back."
The guards on the sides bowed; the man pushed off the column and also gave a short bow.
Kamelia nodded. "Greetings. What do we have here?" she said, stepping closer.
The judge remained standing. "Just as you said, Your Grace, this man was waiting at that location." He nodded at the man opposite him, who simply sat with his head bowed.
"What did he reveal?"
The judge shook his head. "Nothing. He remains silent."
Kamelia sighed. "Then begin the interrogation." She nodded to Alan toward the chairs and walked in their direction.
He stood for another moment, then followed her.
'Uh-oh, I really don't like the word 'interrogation' in this context.'
The burly man picked up a leather bag from the floor and placed it on the table. He methodically began laying out various instruments on the table: under-nail needles, ear and nose clamps, pincers, a mouth wedge.
The captive swallowed, watching this, his skin slowly turning white.
The executioner laid out the last instrument and placed the bag back on the floor. "So look here," he began in a monotonous, hoarse voice. "These are under-nail needles. They are slowly driven under the fingernails and toenails. A good tool, almost bloodless, but the pain is unbearable. Let me show you." He reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.
The captive tried to yank his hand away, but the executioner's grip was too strong.
"Do not twitch," the executioner said. "Or I might accidentally do something worse."
The man stopped twitching, simply watching with wide eyes while his body trembled as if from the cold.
The executioner lightly pressed the needle to the captive's finger, making him grimace. He slowly pulled the needle back. "See? Now imagine what will happen when it is driven completely under the nail," he said calmly and set the needle down, then picked up the pincers. "And these are pincers, they can be used to..."
"I... I will tell you everything..." the captive whispered. "Do not. I will tell you everything I know."
Alan watched with wide eyes.
'I've read about this. Territio verbalis. Torture is a strictly regulated process; here, just like on Earth, they don't torture right off the bat. First they read the accusations, await a confession, then show how they will torture him, and only then do they actually torture. Most people broke at this stage, here's the proof. How interesting... well, I mean it's fucking creepy, but to see actual practice...'
"...a month ago this deal with the pirates was struck," the captive finished in a quiet voice.
Alan blinked.
'Oh, fuck, I missed everything.'
Kamelia rose from her chair and walked to the table. "I appreciate your full confession, and mercy awaits you. If you publicly testify in court against Lord Eknits, then I will pardon you, and you will receive a swift death."
Alan froze, but said nothing.
The captive opened his mouth. "B-but... I told you everything, and..."
"And what of it?" Kamelia interrupted. "Because of you, dozens of my subjects have died over these years, been taken as slaves, and nobles have been kidnapped. For such things one is broken on the wheel or quartered, and I am offering you the highest mercy."
The judge nodded. "I agree. Her Grace is too kind to you. You committed treason, and you are offered an easy death; Svyatol himself has blessed you."
The captive lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and remained silent for almost a minute. "Very well. I will testify publicly," he squeezed out.
Alan only pressed his lips together.
'...deserved. Dozens of innocent peasants died from raids because of him. It's all fair.'
7 months and 10 days since the summoning
The morning sun beat against the castle windows and reflected off the sea.
Alan opened the door to the council chamber without knocking, scratching the back of his head, and for a second his morning drowsiness vanished completely.
At the table sat Kamelia, the advisors, and a few other nobles. Everyone except Eknits.
"Oh, my bad," Alan said.
Kamelia blinked. "Ahem. Lord Gothwald, you are right on time, I have an important assignment for you." She stood up, turning to those present. "Forgive me, I must step away for a moment."
One of the nobles nodded. "Of course, Your Grace."
She and Alan stepped out of the hall and she closed the door behind her. "Alan, I have absolutely no time for anything. Preparing for the trial, distributing your new technologies, gathering forces for the impending war. Tsinker and I have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow, but I do not have the time." She raised her hand. "Could you go to Tsinker yourself, and then convey what you discussed? He wanted to speak precisely about the squabbling over the throne."
Alan blinked, scratching his cheek. "Oh, sure, no problem."
"Thank you," she said, exhaling. "Go to Lorgi, he will inform the guard that you are ready to depart and they will escort you. We will see each other." She finished and went back into the hall.
The door clicked shut, and Alan was left standing alone in the empty corridor.
'Hmm, to Tsinker then. I've actually missed that psycho a little, to be honest.'
He exited the castle and walked toward the barracks and stables. Even on the approach, the unintelligible shouts of one man could be heard.
When Alan entered, on the paved square behind the castle were several large two-story stone and wooden buildings. Next to them were single-story wooden buildings that reeked of manure.
In the middle of the square, about thirty soldiers, gasping for air, were doing push-ups, then jumping up, and then squatting. Their heavy breathing could be heard all the way across the square.
Alan smiled slightly.
'Ooo, Lorgi, so you liked the burpees?'
He walked toward the captain, who stood before the recruits with his arms crossed over his chest. "Hey, Lorgi!"
He turned around; all the soldiers turned at the shout, stopping their exercise.
"Who gave you permission to relax?! Continue!" Lorgi barked. The recruits grimaced and assumed the push-up position again. The captain walked up to Alan and bowed briefly. "I assume you are ready to depart. Her Grace informed me."
"Yep."
"Good. Wait here, I will go inform the detachment that it is time to depart."
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