6kv Chapter 38: The Dead Crow in the Black Wooden Box and the Earl's Iron Boots
Chapter 38: The Dead Crow in the Black Wooden Box and the Earl's Iron Boots
Haijiang City.
The curtains in the Earl's Hall were not fully drawn.
The morning light at the end of the long summer shone through the cracks, falling narrowly and palely on the floor tiles.
The light shone on the large, long table, illuminating the wood grain of the surface clearly. Each grain bore the marks of many years of wear and tear.
Jason Mellist sat in the chair.
He wasn't wearing a crown, just a fur robe with the collar open, revealing a line of tanned skin on his neck.
His hands rested on the edge of the table, his fingers interlocked, the knuckles turning slightly white from being clenched so tightly.
He didn't speak, but just stared at the open black lacquered wooden box in the center of the table.
The wooden box was lined with dry straw.
Half a broken arrow lay on the hay. The shaft was cracked into barbs at the break, but the black raven feathers at the fletching were still there, stained with dried blood, and clearly visible in the morning light.
On the other side of the wooden box was a fragment cut from a leather armor. The purple eagle emblem on the leather had been deeply scratched, the cut running from the eagle's head to the tip of its claw.
Next to it were three statements. The parchment was pressed flat, and the handwriting was neat and legible, copied by Pollifer, but there were a few smudges of ink—left by his trembling hand while writing.
Polyver knelt on the stone slab.
His head was covered in frost, and his left trouser leg was torn by a tree branch, revealing a patch of bluish skin underneath.
Forehead pressed to the ground, lungs rumbling like broken bellows, each breath audible. The result of a night of riding.
No one spoke in the hall.
Earl Jason finally made a move.
He picked up the broken arrow, twirled it in his hand twice, looked at the black raven pattern on the fletching, and then put it back.
"The Blackwood river patrolmen shot down Breckon's grain ship." His voice was low and flat, as if he were reciting something he already knew.
"Breken fired twenty-four arrows in quick succession, piercing through the soldiers of Raventree City and the entire advance outpost."
He pulled his hands away from the edge of the table, rubbed the backs of his hands on his fur coat, and then clasped them together again.
"What does this have to do with Haijiang City?"
Pollifer looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles under them, and his lips were chapped with a thin cut.
He spoke in the order he had rehearsed many times before coming.
"My lord. Brecken's ships are loaded with white salt from Seafront City, destined for downstream." His voice was hoarse but steady. "Brightwood has given a strict order: any longship crossing the Raventree River is to be considered Brecken's men."
He crawled half an inch on his knees, moving a little closer.
"If the trade route south to Flowing City is blocked, the salt that was prepared for winter will rot in the warehouses of Blue Fork River. If it can't be transported out before winter, it will be a huge problem."
Earl Jason's eye twitched. Pollifer saw it and continued.
"Lord Hohenzollern asked me to convey a message. He said that if it were just two mad dogs fighting over a bone, let them bite it. But this broken throat line isn't just severing the dogs' necks, it's severing the salt tax for the Lord this winter."
"My lord, yesterday's intelligence report: Blackwood has drawn three hundred spearmen and thirty cavalry from the south, fully armed and pressing towards the crossing. Brecken has set up a camp of two hundred armored soldiers on the opposite bank. Both sides are at full strength."
He lowered his voice.
"At this point, if a document is sent out, the people of Tethos will not listen. They will only feel that Seafront City is favoring Breken, which will only cause more trouble."
Earl Jason did not answer immediately.
He stood up and walked to the window.
The sea breeze blowing through the crack in the window lifted the hem of his fur robe. He pressed it down with his hand and stood there looking out for a while.
Outside the city walls lies Tiemin Bay. The sea is a deep color this season, with high waves that surge in one after another, crashing against the rocks and breaking apart before receding and surging in again.
He stood there for fifteen minutes, his back to everyone in the hall.
"What does Hohenzollern want?"
He spoke, still with his back to him, his voice not loud, but it could be heard clearly in the hall.
Pollifer lowered his head and repeated Otto's words, word by word.
After he finished speaking, the hall fell silent again.
Earl Jason turned around.
He walked back from the window, stood by the table, and glanced down at the broken arrow in the wooden box.
"He will use my twelve shields to draw the fury of Blackwood to Seafront."
He wasn't asking Pollifer; he was just bringing it up, telling himself.
He picked up the piece of leather armor, flipped it over, and put it back with the scratched side facing down.
"He's calculated it very clearly," he said. "When Blackwood saw the eagle banner of Seafront, he knew this was no small matter. Even if Tetos is fierce, he'll have to consider whether it's worth it to break ties with the Mellists."
He closed the wooden box and fastened it.
Desmond.
"grown ups."
"Go to the stables. Lead the warhorses. Over at the treasury, two hundred halberdiers, clad in double armor, will leave the city today."
He paused for a moment.
"Raise the eagle flag."
Desmond nodded, turned and walked out quickly, without saying a word.
Earl Jason looked at Polliff.
"You. Stand up."
Pollifer got up from the ground; his legs were numb, and it took him a while to stand up straight.
"Go back and tell your lord." Earl Jason placed his hand on the table, leaned down, and lowered his voice, "I'm getting myself involved in this mess not because of his clever scheme, but because I can't afford to lose that batch of salt."
"He had better distinguish between these two things, or next time he comes to me, I'll uproot that mud-brick fortress and throw it into the Blue Fork River."
He straightened up, turned, and walked toward the side door. The hem of his fur robe swept across the floor tiles, making a slight sound, and then disappeared.
Pollifer stood in the center of the hall.
The fabric on my back was soaked through; the sweat and cold rain mixed together, chilling me to the bone.
Two days later. Upstream of the Blue Fork River.
Cold rain mixed with ice shards pelted down.
This kind of rain isn't the torrential downpour of a long summer; it's the kind of cold, drizzling rain that falls before autumn. It has no intensity, just keeps going, soaking everything through, and letting the chill slowly seep into your bones.
The mud coating on the earthen wall was soaked through, and in several places where it hadn't been compacted, water began to flow down, forming a black muddy ditch at the base of the wall.
Two militiamen were squatting there, trying to block the gap with stones. They blocked one spot, but more water kept flowing out, so they blocked that one too.
Otto stood in front of a deep pit filled with quicklime.
He had no cape, and his gray short-sleeved shirt was soaked through by the rain, with his shoulders and back clinging to the wet fabric, making every movement feel cold.
The old wound on my left arm throbbed with a dull ache in the damp cold. The pain wasn't like being cut with a knife; it was like a blunt object pressing inward, deep, continuous, and relentless.
He leaned on his long sword with his right hand, the tip of the sword stuck in the mud, rainwater dripping from the hilt.
At the bottom of the pit, sixteen half-armored infantrymen and forty-five new militiamen, all shirtless, were colliding with each other in a muddy pool that was knee-deep.
They were covered in mud from head to toe, even their eyebrows were stuffed with mud, making it impossible to tell who was who.
There were no whistles, no formation commands, and no rules to follow.
Otto gave an order: "Use heavy wooden clubs at will." The twenty men on the right who grabbed the clubs went to the west to eat hot porridge, while those whose clubs were taken away were deprived of their half-month salted meat ration.
After receiving the order, the people in the pit remained silent for about two breaths, and then began.
The mud got into my nasal cavity, and before I could wipe it off, I just wiped it with my sleeve and kept rinsing.
The heavy log struck his ribs with a dull thud. The man who had been hit bent over but did not fall; he straightened up again and turned to confront the one who had struck him.
The two men were locked in a fierce struggle, wrestling and rolling together into the mud, neither willing to let go.
Since her fingers could no longer hold on, she used her arms to tightly clamp the other person's neck.
A person whose ear was bitten cried out, but did not loosen their grip on the wrist.
Otto stood on the edge of the pit and watched.
He didn't call for a stop, nor did he throw in any new sticks; he just watched.
The rain lashed his face, but he didn't raise his hand to wipe it.
This is not shield wall training. Shield wall training trains obedience and discipline.
This is another matter—to let them rediscover that unwillingness to die, that biting spirit, in the mud.
The difference between those who have fought in wars and those who haven't is this.
Pollifer came running from the direction of the longhouse, draped in an oilcloth, water droplets dripping from his chin, his shoes making a squelching sound as they sank into the mud.
He ran to the edge of the pit, stood next to Otto, and took a couple of breaths.
"News has arrived from Haijiang City."
He pulled a folded parchment from his pocket, but the rain was too heavy, so he didn't unfold it and just held it in his hand.
"Earl Jason has personally led two hundred heavy halberdiers, and the eagle banner has already left the city. Ultimatums have been sent to the vanguard commanders of Blackwood and Brecken respectively."
He paused for a moment.
"Those twelve veterans from the coastal city."
"The master has brought his troops; the guard dogs won't stay in their kennels." Otto pulled his longsword from the mud, wiped the mud off the spine with his sleeve, and then sheathed it. "They'll come out on their own."
"And then?" Pollifer asked.
"Let's see how Tetos responds to this card." Otto didn't turn around, still looking at the bottom of the pit.
"Brightwood isn't crazy. He knows the significance of Earl Mellist personally leading troops. But he can't afford to lose face and back down in front of hundreds of people."
He paused for a moment.
"So he'll try to find a way out. What kind of way out he'll find depends on whether Earl Jason will give him one."
Will Earl Jason stay?
"Yes," Otto said. "He didn't go to fight; he went to make sure people saw him. The two things are very different."
A loud thud came from the bottom of the pit, followed by the sound of someone falling into the mud.
Then the person who had fallen got up again, grabbed the stick next to him, and continued to spray water.
Otto watched, tapping his fingers twice on the hilt of his sword.
"Tell Cole that the fire will not go out tonight. Burn all the silver ingots that have piled up in the mine into bars and put them in the cellar."
He turned to look at Pollifer.
"There should be at least three levels in the cellar before Jason withdraws his troops."
Otto walked toward the longhouse, his boots sinking into the mud, each step firm and solid.
Rainwater streamed down his clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him, which were quickly washed away by the rain.
Pollifer stood at the edge of the pit and glanced again at the people at the bottom.
Someone who had just been knocked down in the mud got up again, wiped their face, and lunged at the person in front of them again.
He wrapped the oilcloth tighter and followed.
The sounds from the bottom of the pit were still there, and the rain couldn't drown them out.