Satisfied with the twenty iron swords, Howard formally employed the blacksmiths, who were elated at their new positions.
This move not only ensured a steady supply of arms for Howard’s forces but also bolstered the castle’s economic ecosystem, creating a symbiotic relationship between the lord and his craftsmen.
The blacksmiths had all heard of Howard’s feats – in just a matter of days, he had risen from a knight to a baron.
Esteemed as a notable figure, they were willing to craft weapons and armor for Howard without any thought of compensation.
Howard, currently strapped for cash, was somewhat tempted upon hearing that these craftsmen were offering their services without demanding wages.
He summoned the leader of these twenty blacksmiths for a detailed discussion.
This leader, dressed in a garment resembling a kitchen apron, stained and worn from long hours in the forge, was evidently a seasoned figure in the smithy.
Howard and the blacksmith leader were seated in a makeshift room, where a maid brought in tea and pastries.
Howard gestured, inviting the blacksmith to partake.
“Why are you willing to make armor for me without pay?” Howard inquired.
After savoring a bite of the pastry, the blacksmith leader replied, “My lord, there’s no need to doubt our intentions. We twenty are but ordinary blacksmiths, lacking any grand reputation in our craft. ”
“Our skills, as we well know, aren’t among the finest. What we seek is recognition. Your high standing, my lord, offers us a chance to gild our craft with the prestige of being your exclusive artisans, thus elevating our fame. That is our aim.”
After pondering for a moment, Howard responded, “If it’s as simple as that, then I accept your proposal. And trust me, my title will not remain stagnant. Commit to your work without laxity, for there will be many more opportunities to rely on my name in the future.”
Having said this, Howard gave the blacksmith leader a meaningful smile and left the room. .
Howard appointed these twenty blacksmiths as his exclusive craftsmen, thereby granting them a modicum of fame within their industry.
For Howard, this arrangement was of no loss to him; it was as if these men were laboring for him gratuitously.
It was a transaction beneficial to both parties.
The blacksmiths found a path to ascending reputation within their field, while Howard, through this newfound prestige, acquired a substantial arsenal of weapons and armor.
Pleased with this deal, Howard instructed Nora to take good care of the blacksmiths, fulfilling any reasonable requests they might have.
Nora acknowledged this with a simple hum, yet her actions seemed noncommittal.
Howard had always sensed something unique about Nora, and now more than ever.
Sometimes, she exhibited utmost respect towards him, her demeanor and language perfectly aligned with propriety.
Yet at other times, Howard felt an unmistakable lack of reverence for his noble status from her.
Seizing the moment, Howard grasped Nora’s hand and asked, “Nora, you are but a commoner, yet why do I sense a lack of respect from you?”
Nora’s beautiful face remained untroubled by any significant emotional fluctuation, reminiscent of a detached machine.
She responded, “My lord, I am merely a secretary tasked with handling your affairs. I am not your wife. Could you please release my hand?”
Howard, realizing his over-eagerness, let go of Nora’s hand, awakening as if from a trance.
He intended to apologize, but before he could utter a word, Nora had already walked away, her steps quick and decisive.
Howard felt perplexed by Nora, who, despite her commoner status, seemed distinctly different from others of her class.
Five days later, Howard set out for Bridgehead Castle, the primary estate of Count Mibo, where the count himself resided.
As the newly appointed Baron of Fernsouth, Howard automatically became a vassal to Count Mibo, and it was time to pay a visit to his direct liege.
Count Mibo, advanced in years, had sparse hair and somewhat elongated ears, giving him the appearance of an aged mouse.
Nonetheless, Howard, as a vassal, dared not show any disrespect and adhered strictly to all the required courtesies.
As Count Mibo sat down, Howard couldn’t help but see the semblance of an old mouse in his movements, almost causing him to burst into laughter.
Fortunately, Nora, who was by his side, pinched him hard, bringing him back to a more serious demeanor.
Unaware of this brief lapse, Count Mibo looked up to find Howard with a composed expression.
The count engaged Howard in conversation, to which Howard responded appropriately.
Count Mibo began to inquire about the economic status and military strength of Fernsouth, “Hmm, Howard, I see you adhere well to noble etiquette, which is paramount for those in our position. I am pleased with your conduct and will ensure the protection of all your lawful rights.”
“However, young Howard, I would like you to tell me about the monthly economic income of your Fernsouth Barony. Also, how many conscripted soldiers do you have under your command in Fernsouth Barony?”
These questions touched upon the core strength of a lord, and technically, Howard could choose not to answer.
However, understanding the intricacies of noble politics, Howard decided to reveal the truth.
He informed Count Mibo about the monthly financial earnings of the Baron of Fernsouth, sharing details of his domain’s resources and military capabilities.
Seated in his chair, Count Mibo’s cheeks lifted into a smile, resembling that of an old mouse.
Howard continued, “My lord, if fully mobilized, my troops number over 1200. The men Blima couldn’t sustain, I can.”
The count’s face brightened even more, as if a flower had bloomed on his features.
He said, “Ah, Howard, you are more capable than Blima. Here’s the thing: I plan to strip Baron Hof of his title. Would you be interested in joining this covert decision? If you’re willing, you’ll be considered a part of this operation.”
As a newcomer to the higher echelons of nobility and in need of Mibo’s patronage, and given his past grievances with Hof, Howard saw no reason to hesitate.
“My lord, count me in,” he replied promptly.
Mibo expressed satisfaction, “Good. Rest assured, the fault lies with Hof. He plotted to assassinate me, but my spymaster discovered it. We could have legally stripped him of his title if we had caught him red-handed, but the assassin took poison and died, leaving us without a witness. It seems direct action against Hof is unfeasible.”
“However, I won’t be bullied. Since he dared to plot against me, I will mobilize the power of my vassals to legally declare, under the authority of my earldom, the removal of Hof’s baronial title. I will need your help with this. Once I have gathered enough support and amassed sufficient strength, I can lay my cards on the table and take Hof’s title.”
Howard understood the situation: Count Mibo intended to usurp Hof’s title through a covert scheme rather than direct confrontation, to avoid provoking widespread outrage.
This approach might be slower and hinged on others’ cooperation, but its success would allow the confiscation of Hof’s title without violating vassal norms, thus maintaining stability in his rule.
Mibo clapped his hands, and a servant appeared, carrying something akin to a clipboard.
He placed it in front of Howard, alongside a pen, clearly indicating that Howard was to sign.
Howard glanced at Mibo, then confidently signed his name.
The servant took the clipboard with the signed document and handed it to Mibo.
After inspecting it and finding everything in order, Mibo burst into hearty laughter, praising Howard: “Excellent! You, Howard, are truly a man of action capable of great deeds! Bold and decisive! You have a bright future ahead!”
Following a further exchange of words in which Mibo hinted that Howard might need to mobilize his troops should Hof resist, Howard readily agreed.
After what seemed like a fruitful discussion, Mibo shared a meal with Howard and then bid him farewell.
As Howard and his party returned to Fernsouth, Nora commented, “That old fox Mibo, with just a few words, managed to orchestrate a cunning plan. I’ve heard that in his youth, he was skilled in intrigue, serving as the master of schemes for Earl Layton Gade. It seems his reputation is well-deserved.”
Riding his horse, Howard chuckled and said to Nora, “Ha, even if Mibo is a cunning old fox, I’m no less shrewd. It’s all just a bluff, an empty promise. Agreeing to it costs me nothing.”
“Besides, Hof and I have been at odds. If this scheme succeeds and Hof refuses to comply, I’ll have no qualms about taking him down.”
Perched gracefully on her horse, Nora exuded an air of elegance and allure.
She teased Howard, “My lord, it’s good to be ambitious, but don’t get caught up in your schemes only to end up empty-handed.”
Howard laughed, “Ah, the politics of nobility are precisely like this. Who immediately reaps benefits upon entering politics? These matters, akin to courtesies or visits, require time and effort. Political capital isn’t built overnight; it comes from regular involvement in politics, gradually earning recognition and importance in the eyes of others.”
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