The next morning, it was finally time to leave Ashbourne behind. The caravan of wagons snaked around the courtyard in front of the manor, as the servants packed away the last remaining chests and bundles of clothes. It was a chilly day, but as Lord Rodger put it, “nothing warmed up a peasant better than hard work”.

  Meanwhile, the upper echelons of society ate breakfast together inside the cozy manor. Fire cracked inside the dining’s room fireplace, as the nobility enjoyed boiled eggs together with venison from yesterday’s hunt. The king may have been busy exploring the Emerald Pond together with Etty, but her father still found the time for a short expedition to catch one last stag.

  Upon Varre’s insistence, the fireplace in the main hall was made available to the servants. Ironically, the atmosphere in that chamber ended up being a lot warmer than in the dining room.

  Etty was clearly sad to see her friend go. She barely talked and mostly spent her time pushing food around her plate with a piece of bread. Many of the knights and senior advisors were also disappointed to leave this place behind and return to the busy capital. Westbridge had its own charms, but all nobles enjoyed hunting and were eager to scratch that itch just a little bit longer.

  Rodger was the only one enjoying himself, and that was only because he convinced Kerryn to share some tales of his adventuring days. The coach was in the middle of describing the time he cut down an entire den of cave bears. Armed with his sword and a group of trusty friends, the warrior ventured into the unknown to recover a lost treasure. The bears had decided to snack on a traveling noble and brought more into their cave than they intended too.

  “And there you have it Varre!” Rodger commented once the tale was over, “the Gomera Forest may be dangerous, but at least we don’t have beasts like the North! Now that’s a deadly place!”

  “There’s worse things than bears in the woods, my friend,” Kerryn replied, chewing on a piece of venison, “you should know that. And you don’t have to look very far to see the survivors,” he added, throwing a glance at the elves seated around the table.

  The elves may have unused to dealing with humans, but even they picked up on the negative atmosphere. On top of that their benefactor was leaving. And though he assured them that they were welcome to stay as long as they wished, such changes always brought uncertainty.

  Rodger clicked his tongue. “That’s not what I meant. I know the forest is deadly. But the area around Ashbourne is safe. Relatively!” he chuckled, “look, all I’m saying is that if Varre is ever in the mood for hunting, he should come visit us again!”

  Etty perked up at that statement. “I agree. I hope you’ll visit us soon! You’ll be able to check up on the progress we’ve done with the Elves. Trust me, you’ll be impressed!”

  “I suppose that’s not a bad idea,” the king mused, “and you’ll finally get to show me the Emerald Pond in all its glory.”

  The noblewoman finally cheered up and started telling her childhood friend about all the sights there are too see, when the flowers are in full bloom. The unspoken tension in the room deflated.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact of the matter. Varre was leaving today. Once everyone was satiated, the room emptied and everyone went outside to say their goodbyes. The servants started clambering onto the wagons, while the knights mounted up. That only left the closest royal advisors.

  “You’ve impressed me with your skills Varre,” Rodger said, shaking his liege’s hand, “but I still have much to teach you. I hope you’ll take my daughter up on her offer and visit again soon! The forest still hosts many surprises!”

  Etty, rushed closer and caught the king into a tight hug instead. “I’m going to miss you. Please don’t stay in the capital too long.”

  Varre chuckled. “I can’t make any promises,” he replied, “but I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

  She kept him close a little longer than necessary, but finally let go. “If you wait too long, I’ll just have to sneak out again and go after you myself!” she giggled.

  Finally Varre approached Sofia. The elven mystic was still talking to Elvira, laying out the final details on how the two women will continue to correspond in the future. They separated once they saw him approach.

  “Thank you again, for sheltering my people,” the elf bowed deeply.

  The king nodded back. “And thank you for sharing your knowledge with us. I believe that this relationship will bring both of us many benefits.”

  “We always help our friends,” Sofia replied, inclining her head again.

  Soon the caravan was out on the road again. Their next stop was Lindridge. The village was the capital of Lindridge duchy, and Varre’s personal property. His own childhood home.

  It was only a day away, but the stop was necessary. Before they moved on to Ashbourne, the royal entourage left behind many of its servants, as well as ten of the Royal Guard there. The hamlet was simply too small to accommodate everyone, but the group could easily communicate and exchange supplies over such small distances.

  The road was mostly uneventful. Though Gomera Forest was close, the caravan was moving away from it towards civilization. Besides, with the monarch’s presence, it was probably one of the most patrolled stretches of track in the entire kingdom.

  However, as the group approached the borders of the settlement, they found a surprise waiting for them. Scores of serfs went out of their houses and lined the road, cheering for their monarch. This was to be expected in cities, and towns, but not villages like this one.

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  Peasants cared little for such things. They were curious of course, especially since the arrival of a large, heavily armed caravan was not an everyday occurrence, but it was typically enough for them to stop their work, lean on their tools, and observe the strange newcomers from a safe distance. Kids were often braver and would approach closer, but even they merely watched. The caravan saw the same things happen again and again as they traveled, and that was the kind of welcome they received the last time they visited Lindridge.

  This time, things were very different. The peasants swung around colorful rags and stretches of cloth, waving their hands in the air. A messenger was dispatched in advance, so the local magistrates knew that the king was coming today, but no one could imagine why they bothered to prepare such a welcoming party. This was highly irregular.

  The serfs lined the road all the way to the manor’s gate. Only once the caravan passed through did the sounds of cheering quiet down a bit. The three magistrates waiting for their liege’s arrival looked almost pitiful in comparison to the sights in the village.

  Still, they did their best. They dressed up in their most elaborate, freshly cleaned outfits, while all of the manor’s servants lined up outside, in a practiced formation. Even the ten Royal Guards were there, adding some much needed gravitas to the situation.

  As soon as Varre’s carriage stopped and the monarch stepped out of it, Dutton, the leader of the magistrates immediately stepped forward. “Welcome home, your majesty,” he said, before getting down on one knee.

  After a short greeting ceremony, the senior advisors entered the manor. The servants started unloading the wagons, though most of the goods remained inside. The group would continue onwards the next day, so only things necessary for tonight would be removed.

  Dinner was almost ready, so after a short break to refresh themselves and change out of their traveling clothes, the royal entourage sat around the table in the dining hall. Game meat was excellent, but after subsisting on it for over a week, Varre was looking forward to some classic beef.

  Finally, once the food was laid out on the table and the welcoming feast began, the mystery of the village revealed itself.

  “I hope you’ll forgive the commotion, your majesty,” Dutton said, clasping his hands together, “we received word from the capital just yesterday. The peasants were celebrating.”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “From Westbridge? What happened?”

  The magistrate swallowed, unsure of how to continue. “It was a message stamped by your very own steward, your majesty. Starting next spring, we are to implement a new system in Lindridge. Instead of managing the peasants directly, as they labor on your land, we are to distribute the fields among them and simply take away a portion of the harvest as tax.”

  Varre’s eyes widened. “Ah! The land reform! I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly!”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would have waited until your majesty’s arrival to check the veracity of the letter,” Dutton said, misinterpreting his liege’s reaction, “but the messenger was adamant. I had to gather all the serfs immediately and without delay! And then he read the contents of the letter aloud to all of them. He didn’t care for my explanations, and he didn’t even take the time to stop by the manor!”

  “A wise decision,” Elvira commented, blowing air on her hot spoonful of stew, “I’m sure many officials would try to stall or weasel their way out of this order. If all of the villagers are present for the reading, then it cannot be misinterpreted. The Council thought it through.”

  “Good point. I knew it was a good idea to leave in their hands,” the king said, “but I thought they’d wait until the spring.”

  “There’s little point to delay, your majesty,” the Court Mage replied, “I’m sure that Johan and Lester spent many sleepless nights running calculations and estimates, but there’s only so much they can do with parchment alone. Your order was clear. And most of the planning will have to be done on the ground, by the magistrates.”

  “And how is that going?” Varre asked, turning to the official.

  Dutton cleared his throat, finally understanding where his monarch stood on the issue. “Well, I am afraid we have not started yet, your majesty. All our hands were full preparing the manor for your arrival. But as soon as we are able to, we will distribute all of the land. Of course, we will need to find ways to do it efficiently. The plots of land need to be close by, families with more hands will receive more area to work on, some of the fields might need to be taken away and given to others to increase efficiency,” he counted off on his fingers, then paused, “but I won’t bore his majesty with the details. Suffice to say, it will be done.”

  “Can you manage it all in time for spring?” the king inquired.

  “Yes. There’s plenty of time. Of course, some of the fields were planted with winter crops already, which complicates matters slightly, but I’m certain we can figure it out,” the magistrate explained.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Varre nodded, “I hope the other villages will be just as successful.”

  “They’ll grumble, but they can’t ignore the messenger,” Elvira said, “not when the document carries the Council’s seal. I guess that’s why they sent them out so early. If the heralds need to be personally present, at each of your properties, they need to leave before the snowfall makes the roads impassable.”

  “Oh. Do you think it’s going to be that bad?” the king asked.

  “Let’s hope not,” the Court Mage laughed, “I don’t think it will be a problem in populated areas. The roads there are decent enough and generally well maintained. But the more isolated hamlets, those deep in the woods, or in the far North, they could be in trouble.”

  “Like Ashbourne?”

  “Like Ashbourne,” Elvira agreed, “but don’t worry, your majesty. That village is now inhabited by forty elves. And if there’s anyone I’d trust to brave the cold wilderness and survive to deliver a message, it’s them,” she paused to look at the crackling fireplace, “I’m more worried about us. It is the middle of November already. And we’re still days away from Westbridge.”

  Fortunately her words were not prophetic. The next day, the caravan got back on the road. Bolstered by the fresh servants and ten new Royal Guards, the road proved no issue. It was chilly, but warm clothes were enough to survive the trip inside the carriage. The open wagons were worse, but the servants seated there could hide underneath warm blankets. And if that wasn’t enough, they’d simply clamber inside one of the covered carts.

  Westbridge was four days away from Lindridge. A distance that could theoretically be travelled in a single go, though it wasn’t very comfortable. Especially since most of the group had been travelling for an extra day, from Ashbourne.

  Marching armies were recommended to take a day long rest after every two to three days of walking. Of course, everyone was mounted in the caravan, either on saddles, or inside of wagons, but the journey still hurt their joints. There was no reason to rush. On the third day, the group decided to stop in one of the larger cities on the way. After consulting her magical tomes and casting a few spells, Elvira decided that there wasn’t a risk of snowfall. At least not enough to necessitate speedy travel.

  Finally, around midday on November 17th, Varre could see the towering city walls over the horizon. The trip to the duchy of Lindridge took nearly a month, but the Royal Entourage had returned home. Just in time before winter.

  The land reform he designed after witnessing the serfs' conditions in Lindridge is finally underway. It will take time and the actual results won't be known till next fall, but the process has begun.

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