The family manor of Lindridge was an impressive complex. Though no one else called it as such, Varre thought of it as more of a castle than a real mansion. It was a square shaped building, with the sides of the structure acting as both defensive walls and residential areas.

  It probably wouldn’t be able to resist any serious bombardment. Catapults, trebuchets, or some of the magical explosions the king had seen during the battles would break through the bricks with just a couple shots. The walls seemed thick, but some of the windows were far too big to serve a defensive purpose. An approaching enemy could easily shoot through them. Or even climb inside.

  There was no moat either. While the village itself had a small stream running through it, it was too far away to be of use. Even then, it was barely knee deep. There was a gate, though only made out of heavy wood. A single tower stood above it, watching over the surrounding area. The manor would repel a raid of bandits or wild animals, but not any real, motivated army.

  Whoever designed the building clearly picked comfort over security. A tall fence surrounded the compound and some of the outlying buildings. Varre recognized the stables. Some of the others probably served as storage areas or some kind of servant quarters.

  The inhabitants of the manor clearly noticed the commotion and went out to greet their liege. They completely ignored all of the guards and royal servants running around and unloading the wagons. Instead, they lined up a couple dozen feet away from the carriage and waited in formation.

  As soon as Varre exited his carriage, the entire welcoming party got down on their knees. The peasants carrying various gifts, completely lowered themselves, while the better dressed officials simply got down on one knee.

  “Welcome, your majesty,” the leader said, keeping his eyes peeled on the ground, “we’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

  “Come on, get up,” the king replied, embarrassed by the scene, “there’s no need for this.”

  The three magistrates rose up, while the serfs remained on the ground. They bowed deeply once more, for good measure.

  “It has been a while since we last met,” the one in the center spoke, “sorry if I’m a little overzealous Va… your majesty. The last time we spoke you were still just a prince,” he chuckled, “congratulations. I couldn’t imagine a better monarch than you.”

  Benjamin stepped forward. “I am afraid I have some bad news for you Dutton. As part of a magical injury, his majesty has lost his memories and does not remember his previous visits to Lindridge.”

  The magistrate, apparently named Dutton, covered his mouth in shock. “Your majesty, I… That’s awful. Forgive me, I had no idea.”

  “We try not to publicize this information,” the chamberlain explained.

  “It’s alright,” Varre replied, “think of it as an opportunity to show me around again. You can show off your best side”

  “Then I’ll make sure to give you the best tour possible,” Dutton said and bowed again, “I also see you’ve brought Lady Etty. Do you also…”

  “No,” she smiled, “I still remember everything.”

  “Most excellent. In that case, I welcome you to Lindridge as well, my lady. Shall I prepare the same room for you as usual?” the magistrate asked.

  “Yes please,” Etty answered.

  “Will you be able to fit everyone?” the king pointed to the massive crowd of guards and servants rushing about behind him, “we have quite the group.”

  “Yes, we’ve been making the preparations ever since we received the letter,” Dutton replied, “we can accommodate all of your guests and some of the guards inside. The others will have to crowd together with the servants,” he pointed to the appropriate quarters.

  Varre frowned. “The building doesn’t look very big. You sure there’s enough room?”

  There was probably some empty space for a few more servants, but the structure wasn’t designed to accommodate such a massive quantity of people at once. Especially since it was already filled with the local workers.

  “Please do not worry about it your majesty,” the magistrate replied dismissively, “we have already removed all of our people and moved them to the village. Everything has been taken care of. Please enjoy yourself and relax,” he paused and pointed to the serfs, still kneeling behind him, “would you care for the traditional Lindredgean greeting?”

  The king leaned to get a better look at the peasants. “And what’s that?”

  Each one of them held some kind of bowl. Though the position was clearly uncomfortable, they held their hands high in the air, allowing the guests to get a better look at the contents.

  The first one contained some small bagels. Dutton directed the monarch to come closer and take one of the pieces out of the bowl. Then, the second serf held up some salt. Varre was supposed to take a pinch and sprinkle it over the bread.

  Once the king received his portion, the other high ranking guests each took up a piece as well. Etty gave him a wink as she took hers, clearly familiar with the tradition. Benjamin hesitated slightly. Though he was the royal chamberlain now, he used to just be another servant back in the day. More trusted and important than the others, but a servant nonetheless. He squinted his eyes, contemplating whether his current position allowed him this privilege, but ultimately decided to take a piece as well.

  Once everyone had received a bagel, the peasants were finally allowed to lower their arms. Varre took a bite. It was freshly baked and still warm. The bakers must have timed the process well. Perhaps someone sent a message ahead informing Dutton about the king’s imminent arrival, though he wasn’t sure whether Hakon would allow that or see that as too much of a risk. If the message got intercepted, the monarch could be easily ambushed.

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  Once the guests had all consumed their little snack, a new group of serfs brought in some beer. Everyone received a tankard. Varre was overjoyed, as he felt like he’d been drinking wine too often inside the court. A nice beer was the perfect thing to follow up the salty bagel.

  Almost returning to his college habits, he was about to start chugging it, but luckily he caught himself in time. Everyone else just slowly sipped theirs. The three wizard girls who weren’t originally from this remote area, were a little surprised by the tradition. Though they weren’t going to go against it either. Especially since the monarch himself was partaking.

  With that out of the way, Dutton invited everyone inside. He led them through the gate and a short corridor, right onto a spacious courtyard. Now, the manor resembled a castle even more. The structure almost reminded Varre of his center of power back in Westbridge. The buildings on the sides acted like walls, protecting the people in the center. Perhaps it could resist some limited siege after all.

  Still, aesthetics were clearly more important here. The walls were covered with vines and there were some small stone columns holding up several balconies.

  Inside, the manor was warm and spacious. Now, in late October, the weather outside was a little chilly, so the atmosphere was rather pleasant. Fortunately, the architects were more interested in ensuring good heat distribution than pure defensibility. The royal castle in the capital could afford both, but poorer aristocrats had to choose just one of the options to focus on. In Varre’s opinion, his father, or whoever else built this structure, chose correctly.

  Dutton gave all of the guests a tour of the entire building. Benjamin insisted on taking the king to his old bedroom first, hoping that the sight would trigger his old memories. Of course, it was futile. Still, the chamberlain remained optimistic. This was just the first attempt.

  The bedroom itself was a pleasant room. It wasn’t as impressive as the royal quarters, but it was comparable with the family mansion in Westbridge’s noble quarter. The first room Varre saw after waking up in this strange new world. The furniture was impressive and the bed comfortable. Not quite fit for a king, but a duke’s son wasn’t far behind.

  Varre wouldn’t be sleeping here today. As the new head of the household, he would receive his father’s chamber. He first offered this one to Etty, but as a frequent guest she already had one of her own. Benjamin too wasn’t willing to impose, despite his newfound status. He would remain in his old room. Elvira was chosen as the lucky girl. This was the second nicest chamber in the entire manor after all.

  The ducal bedroom, just like the royal quarters in Westbridge, was more of a full apartment than just a single chamber. It contained a small dining room, living room, and even an office. Of course, as befitted his father, it contained plenty of reading material. And even a door that led straight to the actual library, with an even larger collection.

  To the king’s dismay, there was no bathroom. The servants would simply bring in a wooden tub into his quarters whenever he wished. He was used to such conditions after travelling over the country so often during the war, but he still would have preferred something better. The bath in the royal quarters wasn’t amazing by modern standards, but it was definitely better than this.

  Once everyone was given their assigned room, Dutton invited them to a dinner. There was some familiar venison. Of course, the peasants weren’t allowed to hunt the deer themselves. Even the magistrate was technically just a commoner. In order to obtain the meat, he had to ask one of the nearby knights. Fortunately, as a loyal vassal of the king, he saw this as a huge honor rather than a chore.

  Before they could begin eating, Elvira made sure to check all of the food for poison. Dutton seemed to be slightly insulted by the implication, but Hakon’s glare shut him before he could utter any complaints. After what happened to Mikkel, the captain wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks.

  Fortunately the food was clean. After a nice meal, everyone returned to their rooms. Tomorrow, they’d get the opportunity to explore the surrounding area directly.

  While some dukes chose to set up their manors inside of towns, Lindridge was just a village. It was large and the town was just a couple hours away, but Varre’s father preferred the peace and quiet found here. Of course, he also owned some properties in the nearby town, as well as other cities spread out in other parts of the duchy. He could easily visit them whenever he wished. This was simply his preferred house.

  With time, Duke Tymon actually ended up spending even more time in the capital. He wanted to serve as a good advisor to his brother on the throne, so he slowly moved to Westbridge. With every year, he spent more days in the city, and less out here, in the wilderness. He even started moving some of his book collection there.

  Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he preferred the remoteness over the comforts of towns. It was a nice change of pace.

  Lindridge itself was a fairly large village. It was inhabited by nearly four hundred people, many of whom worked in the manor directly.

  Still, most were serfs working the land. Many of the more specialized servants traveled together with Duke Tymon and followed him to the capital or one of his other properties. The sizeable quarters were supposed to accommodate all of these people, whenever the noble chose to stay at Lindridge.

  The village also contained some specialist workers. It had its own blacksmith, with an apprentice. Due to the presence of the duke, there was also a dedicated carpenter and cooper, who specialized in constructing barrels. There was also a farrier who took care of the horses, as well as a mason.

  Perhaps, given enough time, Lindridge would eventually grow into a proper town. All it would take would be for a few more merchants and specialists to set up their shops. Almost inevitable if the village became the real headquarters of the local duke. Unless he intervened directly.

  Still, the majority of the population were farmers. Simple folk who worked the land.

  Varre used the visit as an opportunity to watch them more closely. The harvest was long since over and most of them were doing tasks closer to their homes. They repaired damage in the walls and roofs. And, to his surprise, they also worked to repair the small bridge passing over the stream in the town.

  “Who’s in charge of making sure the bridge is passable,” the king asked the overseer.

  “That would be you, your majesty,” Dutton replied, “or well, me I suppose. In your stead of course.”

  “The local lord makes sure that all of the roads are passable,” Benjamin added, “and since that task is practically impossible, and to be honest, a waste of your considerable talents, it is given to the magister.”

  Varre ran his hand over the wooden railing. It was solid and clearly changed recently. The local officials were clearly doing their jobs and making sure that the roads were passable. He’s seen as much during his travel here from the capital. The road may not have been cobbled, but the bridges were all solid.

  “Good work,” the monarch praised, “and how much did this cost? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to cheap out on this in the future. I’m just curious.”

  “Cost?” the magistrate scratched his head as if slightly confused, “well, the wood cost a few thalars, but we had the budget. Especially after this year’s harvest. It was rather good.”

  “And the labor?” Varre asked and pointed to the crowd of about a dozen peasants working on the construction. A few of them were standing in the middle of the stream, with water reaching all the way to their knees.

  “Labor?” Dutton asked, “your majesty. These are your serfs. They work for free.”