Chapter 66: The Impact of Grain Purchases and the Invitation to Military Action

Barony of Cleveland. After listening to the steward’s report, Brandon paced back and forth, pondering whether there was some hidden plot behind it all.

“You’re certain they began buying up grain in large quantities half a month ago and show no sign of stopping?” Brandon, still uneasy, confirmed with his steward once more.

“Yes, my lord. On the fifteenth of April, the people at Lake of the Wishful Stars started purchasing grain, and they’re still at it. The neighboring lords have all raised their prices, yet they buy whatever is offered,” the steward patiently explained again, responding to his liege’s questions.

“Is there something here that I’m not seeing?” After hearing the steward’s words, Brandon muttered to himself and once more fell into silence.

Since suffering two defeats at the hands of Velin Eckes, Brandon had paid particular attention to his neighbor, scrutinizing his every move.

“My lord, do you think we should join in the frenzy as well and make a handsome profit to replenish our coffers?” Seeing Brandon lost in thought, the steward asked in a low voice.

The barony of Cleveland had barely recovered from its last military defeat.

“Let me think on this. There’s no need to rush,” Brandon replied, unable to make up his mind whether to seize this opportunity for profit or to follow his rival’s example and start buying grain himself.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

“Enter.”

A footman outside, hearing Brandon’s voice, opened the door quietly, bowed deeply, and respectfully reported, “Master, here is news concerning the territories of the three nobles—Violet, Caisley, and Barry. Please have a look.”

The steward stepped forward to take the letter from the servant, dismissed him with a wave, and handed the letter to Brandon.

Brandon opened the missive and read it carefully. He discovered that of his three neighbors, Caisley and Barry were both purchasing grain, while Violet still seemed to be observing the situation.

“Old Bull, we’ll buy grain too—purchase from other noble territories.” After weighing his options, Brandon decided to take the gamble; his instincts told him it was the right move.

“My lord, how much should we buy?” the steward inquired.

“Rations for twenty thousand people for a year. Use that standard.”

“Yes, my lord.” The steward bowed, preparing to leave the study, but Brandon spoke again just as he reached the door.

“Go further afield; the grain will be cheaper there.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Once the steward had left, Brandon sat down and reviewed the intelligence once again, murmuring, “I hope I’m not making a mistake…”

...

Time slipped by, and in the blink of an eye, more than three months had passed.

Three days ago, Velin received another hint from the hand of fate, bringing him important news:

“Beneath House Seventy-Six, District Three, City of Lando, Province of Kurze, lies a book written by a foreigner.”

As far as Velin knew, the Province of Kurze lay in the central region of the kingdom, directly governed by the royal family, roughly north of his home province of West River, on the border between the Kingdom of Ilia and the Ironforge Dwarven Mountain Kingdom—a distance of three provinces from the Province of Cadero.

It was too far away for now, so he could only set it aside for the future.

As usual, Velin trained diligently in the practice yard, sharpening his combat skills and instructing his knightly squires.

Through his teaching, Kyle had successfully advanced to the rank of Bronze Knight, stepping fully into the ranks of professionals.

After morning training, Velin saw that Beld had been waiting for some time.

“What is it?” Velin asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Beld replied, “My lord, there are three matters to report.

“First, the five blue root plantations have been completed. The first harvest is expected this December, but we lack the proper potion-making process for blue root and will need to hire a mage to resolve this.”

“Start planting. I’ll handle the potion-making process,” Velin decided without hesitation.

“Second, as per your instructions, three years’ rations for thirty thousand people—at three hundred pounds per person per year—means we plan to purchase thirteen thousand five hundred tons. So far, we’ve acquired two thousand tons of wheat, five thousand tons of yam beans, five hundred tons of rye, and three thousand five hundred tons of black beans—for a total of eleven thousand tons, at a cost of one hundred ten thousand gold coins. Including your private reserves, all liquid assets of the territory are depleted. Should we continue buying?”

“Pause for now. The current stores should suffice. In a few months, we’ll earn back the money we’ve spent, and perhaps gain a population boost. There’s no need to rush.” After a moment’s thought, Velin made his decision.

“As you wish, the grain purchases will be suspended,” Beld replied, then moved on to the third matter.

“This morning, I received an official dispatch from the province, issued in the name of Sir Medmonchi Colombo, commander of the Sixteenth Royal Knights. Please review it.”

Velin recalled what his cousin Flora had told him three months ago, then accepted the dispatch.

Inside was a letter, which Velin tucked into his pocket before reading the official document.

“Upon the recommendation of Captain Kadeqi Eckes, commander of the third company of the Sixteenth Royal Knights, the order hereby invites Pioneer Knight Velin Eckes to assemble twenty cavalry and two hundred infantry and report to Falling Cloud Slope, on the border of Cadero Province, before August fifteenth.”

“Beld, pull five knight squires and one infantry platoon from your hand, and fifteen knight squires plus three platoons from Orlando. Assemble in the barracks by tomorrow morning—I’ll train them personally.”

Velin handed the document to Beld, issuing his orders.

After reading the dispatch carefully, Beld asked, “My lord, should we send some Silver Knights as well?”

“No need. I’ll be taking a third of our forces; leaving the Silver Knights behind will keep the territory secure.”

“Understood, my lord.”

Once Beld had left, Velin opened the letter and read it thoroughly.

“Dearest Velin,

It has been three months since we last saw each other, and I miss you greatly.

This military operation will be led by the Royal Knights as the main force. There is no danger; rest assured.

As for supplies and logistics, I have arranged everything for you. All you need do is bring your men.

Be prepared—my brother will create an opportunity for you to meet Sir Medmonchi Colombo, our commander, at the right time, to help you establish a connection.

Yours, Flora.”

“It seems I must make thorough preparations this time—at the very least, those two hundred infantrymen need to be fully re-equipped.”

Folding the letter, Velin donned his jacket and returned to his study to draft a month-long training plan for his two hundred soldiers, determined to enhance their capabilities before the campaign began.