At the foot of the Lamel Mountains, on the other side, the war between Provence and Lombardy remained in a stalemate.
Last winter, Duke Vladis led half of the army from Aosta to recapture Vilno, but it was short-lived. No sooner had Vilno been recaptured than the bad news came from central Provence that Gebul was about to fall. If Nobles, the stronghold of the entire central front, were lost, the entire Provence front would lose its stable situation, and the Lombardy army would then sweep through unhindered.
In this urgent moment, Duke Vladis had no choice but to leave a small force to garrison Vilno and lead the main army to the central region to reinforce Gebul. Subsequently, Vilno once again fell into the hands of the Lombardy army.
Aosta once again became the target of the Lombardy army. The Aosta garrison, with half of its forces drawn away, bravely resisted three large-scale sieges and countless skirmishes by the Lombardy army. Many believed that the fall of Aosta was only a matter of time.
In Kalk Fort, northeast of Aosta, Baron Belian was instructing his Internal Affairs Knight on the defense of the fort. “Redd, I’m entrusting Kalk Fort to you. Be frugal with the stored grain in the fort. Once the enemy launches a major attack, be sure to quickly ask Aosta for reinforcements. This is Aosta’s rear supply transfer point. If Kalk falls, Aosta will become a dead city. So you must hold this place. I’ll be gone for twenty days at the quickest, a month at the slowest, and I will definitely return with enough grain and Soldiers.”
Internal Affairs Knight Redd looked back at the sixty remaining Soldiers in the castle and nodded heavily. Baron Belian then mounted his warhorse, taking four cavalrymen and 50,000 fenni worth of silver coins directly to the northern border of Provence. He hoped to recruit ninety Soldiers there and purchase enough grain to supply one hundred and fifty Soldiers for six months…
In the Giant Stone Pile, a seven-day horse ride north of Kalk Fort, a bonfire was burning with a fervent red flame. Four people sat around the bonfire. Art threw the leather pouch filled with ale to the one-armed Simon and said, “Drink some strong liquor, it’ll guarantee you a good night’s sleep.”
Simon reached out his right hand to take the pouch Art offered, bit open the stopper with his teeth, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp of liquor. Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and returned the pouch to Art, saying, “My lord, with our current strength, can we set up a checkpoint on the trade route to collect taxes? Our swords and spears may not even be sharper than those of the merchant caravan guards.”
Art hung the pouch back on the saddle beneath him and replied, “Simon, you’re right, we don’t have enough strength yet to make those large merchant caravans pay taxes, but we can still earn some scattered money from those small peddlers. In fact, I don’t even plan to rely on this to support my Patrol Team this year. I’m setting up checkpoints at the border now more to slowly get passing merchants and travelers accustomed to this checkpoint so that when we have the strength to make them pay taxes in the future, they won’t find it sudden. Besides, I also plan to take advantage of the current lull when merchants don’t dare to trade north-south to open up the trade route between Provence and Burgundy. Otherwise, what’s the use of all those carriages and wagons I’ve acquired? And border checkpoints are undoubtedly an important link; through the checkpoints, we can intercept passing merchant caravans.”
Simon vaguely understood Art’s plan and said, “Are you planning to use Soldiers to open up trade channels and then rely on north-south trade to earn money to support the Soldiers?”
“That’s the idea. But there are still many things to resolve…”
While Art and Simon were discussing setting up checkpoints for taxation, Roan had already taken his Soldier, Jason, on a patrol around the Giant Stone Pile. Roan led his horse back to the hitching post in the Giant Stone Pile, removed the saddles from two horses, added some fodder, and then came to the campfire to report to Art, “My lord, there’s no danger within a one-acre radius for now. Jason and I will take turns on watch tonight; he’ll take the first half, and I’ll take the second half.”
“Good, then go get some sleep.”
Roan acknowledged, turned, took out a felt blanket from his saddlebag, spread it by the fire, unbuckled his belt and broadsword, placed them beside him, and using his saddle as a pillow, was soon snoring.
Art and Simon also stopped talking and each curled up in their felt blankets to rest. The night passed without a word.
The next morning, before dawn, Jason had already rekindled the bonfire from the embers. In the copper pot on the fire, the barley porridge was bubbling fragrantly. Simon hadn’t fully adapted to dressing and hanging his sword with one hand; his belt kept coming unbuckled. Roan had finished his watch and returned to the campfire, taking off his boots to warm his somewhat stiff toes.
Art returned from the wilderness outside the Giant Stone Pile with a riding bow on his back and threw a plump marmot he was holding to Jason: “I was planning to hunt a rabbit, but I ran into this big fellow who was up early.”
“Roan, feed the horses later. We’ll head to the border after breakfast.”
Roan put on his leather boots, stood up, walked to the hitching post, and took the bags of fodder and black beans to feed the four horses and a greenish mule carrying provisions.
As the sun rose, the four men had already ridden their horses to the trade route twenty miles Southwest of the Giant Stone Pile. This was a flat and desolate area at the foot of Lamel Mountain. A stream flowing down from Lamel Mountain passed through here and flowed eastward. This small stream was also the eastern border between the Grand Duchy of Provence and the Earl of Burgundy.
Perhaps it was still early, as there were no travelers on this trade route yet, and no signs of human habitation or villages around. Art stood on his horseback, gazing at a small mound by the trade route not far to the south, and said to the others around him, “Let’s go, let’s go take a look at that small mound.” With that, he kicked his horse’s belly a few times and galloped towards the mound.
The small mound was only about fifty feet from the trade route, about fifteen feet high, and about seventy feet in circumference. There were a few Miscellaneous trees and a pile of bushes on the mound. This small mound was the only high point in this flat wasteland. Coupled with its proximity to an ancient stone bridge, it was an excellent lookout position. If it weren’t for the barren land being unsuitable for cultivation and the lack of surrounding villages, this place might have long since become a border fortress.
“Simon, what do you think about setting up a checkpoint here?” Art dismounted and came to the top of the mound, looking at the distant trade route with his right hand shading his forehead.
“My lord, from a topographical perspective, setting up a checkpoint here is certainly suitable, but there are no castles or fortresses nearby. If enemies besiege us, this place will become a death trap.” Simon, following behind Art, surveyed the surroundings.
“I’ve also considered this issue. So, in the future, I plan to build a temporary station in the Giant Stone Pile where we camped yesterday. Later, when the Patrol Team has enough Soldiers, we can station an army there. If there’s danger at the checkpoint, we can send reinforcements in time.”
“My lord, then why don’t we directly make this the Patrol Team’s station? At least it’s closer to a water source here.”
“No, we are stationed Soldiers under the pretext of setting up checkpoints to collect entry customs duties. If too many Soldiers are stationed here, it could easily cause border disputes. I only plan to permanently station a small squad of Soldiers at this checkpoint. Six Soldiers can deter ordinary small merchant caravans, and there’s no need to forcibly detain large merchant caravans that refuse to pay taxes; I have other means to make them pay taxes obediently.”
“Other means?”
“You don’t need to worry about that for now. First, think about setting up this checkpoint. When we return to Wood Fort next time, we’ll organize people to come and build it. The outpost will be built on this mound, it doesn’t need to be too big, just one or two wooden houses, a stable, and a watchtower will do. The surroundings will be enclosed by a wooden wall made of sharpened timber. In case of an emergency, we’ll quickly send a horse to the Giant Stone Pile station for help, then close the gate and hold until reinforcements arrive. As long as the Earl of Burgundy and the Grand Duchy of Provence don’t declare war, there won’t be large-scale armies appearing here. Ordinary merchant caravan guards would never dare to openly besiege a checkpoint of the Earl of Burgundy.”
“My lord, you’re right. As long as Tinietz still recognizes that our checkpoint is authorized and permitted, we won’t be in danger, but—”
“Are you worried that Lord Pierre won’t recognize us?”
“Yes, it’s certain that we won’t receive much in commercial taxes recently. When the war in the south settles and trade flourishes, I’m afraid our checkpoint will also be removed. Lord Pierre only promised us to collect commercial taxes for one year, and besides, the incident at Wincheston Manor last time offended him quite a bit.”
“Simon, your concerns are not unfounded, but don’t forget that I am a Patrol Officer appointed by the Court. As long as the Court recognizes me, Tinietz County won’t be able to make decisions. I’m firmly grasping the line with Bishop Olov precisely to open up this path to the Court.”
Art and Simon discussed the specifics of setting up the checkpoint on the mound for a while longer, then descended to the trade route and instructed Roan and Jason, who were unloading supplies from the mules and horses: “Jason, go get some firewood and fresh water nearby. We’ll set up camp and cook here. Some displaced people should be passing by soon.”
Indeed, before the barley porridge in the pot by the roadside fire had even boiled, three or four displaced families began to appear on the trade route from the south. They had long seen the cooking smoke rising from the mound, but fearing that bandits or marauders were blocking the road to rob, they stood watching from a distance for a long time, unwilling to approach.
It wasn’t until the faint aroma of the thin barley porridge in the copper pot wafted to their noses on the breeze that a gaunt man in ragged clothes finally mustered the courage to approach the small mound.
The man first stared at the campfire from the other end of the small stream’s stone bridge for a while. Art and the others didn’t question him and continued to sit around the fire, roasting the dried cured meat they carried. The man swallowed several times before weakly asking loudly, “Gentlemen, we are displaced people seeking refuge from Provence. We have no money left. May we pass through here?”
“Why wouldn’t you be able to pass? We aren’t mountain bandits or robbers, and we have no intention of boiling your poor bones into soup.” Roan said indignantly, holding a large wooden spoon. He had already cooked the barley porridge in the copper pot to mush, and those fellows still weren’t coming over.
The man saw that Art and the others were all armored and sword-wielding, and still hesitated to approach.
Art patted Jason’s head and said, “You go tell him that we are recruiting displaced people for a lord’s manor. If he wants to drink porridge and eat grain, he should come over quickly to be considered.”
Jason rubbed his head, stood up, and walked towards the man, kindly explaining their identities and purpose to him.
After confirming that the few people were not marauders or mountain bandits, the man ran back to call the other displaced people forward.