6kv Chapter 56: Three Seals
Chapter 56: Three Seals
Three days of sweat had soaked through the coarse wool blanket.
The pungent smell of the white herbal paste hit his nasal cavity, mixed with the acrid odor of the liquor used for disinfection, turning the entire bottom of the stone tower into a sealed medicine jar. Otto Hohenzollern turned his head to the side; semi-circular frost crystals formed in the cracks of the stone, directly in front of his right eye, were as clear as a shard of glass.
He tried to sit up.
His left arm wasn't fully responsive yet; as he pushed upwards, the newly formed periosteum at his collarbone emitted a dull pain, like someone gently tapping the inside with a mallet. He gritted his teeth and forced half his body up with his right arm.
"grown ups."
Maester Ilion did not look up. He sat on a low stool beside the stone couch, using a small wooden scraper to shave the roots of the bitter white grass into a fine powder. The powder fell onto the coarse cloth and piled up into a small heap of grayish-white ashes.
"Rest for three more days. Otherwise, that newly healed periosteum will burst open again the next time you catch a cold. And then it won't be something I can handle."
"Can we mount the horse in three days?"
"Being able to mount a horse doesn't mean you can wield a sword." Ilion pushed the powder aside and finally glanced at him.
"This time, it wasn't just skin and flesh that were damaged, sir. It was his lungs. If the winter wind blows in again, he won't be able to withstand the fever next time."
Otto did not refute this.
He leaned against the stone wall, looking at the narrow window opposite him that had no glass panes.
Outside the window was the eastern slope of the stone tower. William Charlton was there. The twelve-year-old hostage, dressed in an ill-fitting linen coat, with a splint wrapped around his left wrist, carried a wooden bucket in one hand as he walked from shed number one downwind to the sewage pit.
They walked steadily. There were no complaints, nor did they take the opportunity to stop lazily when no one was looking.
Three months ago, the boy cried all night on his first night in the territory.
"Bring Polyver here."
Ilion got up and went out.
Otto closed his eyes and counted his usable hands in the darkness:
Torun – skilled in fighting, able to hear whistles, but incapable of negotiation or reading accounts; he'll use a knife to deal with words on parchment.
Poliffer—capable of reading accounts and quelling rebellions by cutting off supplies, but unable to intimidate Toren, and still trembles at the sight of a great nobleman.
Maria—she can manage the treasury and speak with the Freys, but without the authority to mobilize troops, Toren won't listen to her.
Ilion—is the Duke's eye, not someone to be summoned.
William—the intelligence network had just opened up, he was twelve years old, and no one took him seriously.
Each of these five people, if taken individually, represents a gap in one's knowledge.
The door hinges made a dull rubbing sound.
Pollifer came in, carrying the ledger, followed by Toren. Toren wasn't called, but he came in, closed the door, leaned against the stone wall, and remained as silent as an old, scarred wooden pillar.
Otto glanced at Toren but didn't kick him out.
Pollifer sat on a low stool and opened his notebook. "Grain: 26,000 pounds remain from the four dry wells, enough to last until spring according to the quota. 1,800 pounds of fish bricks are stored for later use. White salt: 380 pounds produced this month, 20 pounds less than last month—"
Why so few?
"Four of the charcoal-burning laborers suffered frostbite, and the kiln fire went out for half a day."
"Whose shift was during the half-day when the fire was cut off?"
Pollifer flipped through the booklet. "Labor Group Three, Second Platoon."
"Deduct one day's worth of salt. Write it into the record." Otto's voice was flat. "Continue."
"Iron: There are forty-two pounds of pig iron left from the smuggling ship's last shipment. Cole says it's enough to make twelve spearheads, or to repair the existing shield rims. One or the other, not enough for both."
"Population: 575 registered, 125 more than the red line. Scholar Ilion mentioned in the raven last month that the Duke would investigate this shortfall sooner or later."
"When will the Duke's raven come next?"
"As is customary, it's the beginning of the month," Poliffer looked up, "today is the third day of the month."
Seven days.
Otto tapped the edge of the stone bed twice with his right knuckles.
At this moment, Toren spoke, his voice low. "My lord, I've heard rumors that things aren't peaceful in the Iron Islands."
"Where did you hear that from?"
"Jack intercepted a merchant twenty miles upstream. The letter wasn't for us, but Jack recognized the sealing wax stamp of the Twins."
Toren took a small, broken piece of parchment from his pocket and placed it on the wooden table.
Otto turned to the side and picked it up with his right hand.
Only a few words. Scribbled, like a corner torn from the original letter:
...There's been unusual activity on the Iron Islands. The Sea Frontier City is already fortifying its defenses...
Pollifer's face changed. "Sir, this is—"
"It hasn't started yet." Otto folded the piece of paper and tucked it under his pillow. "But it will start."
He leaned back against the stone wall and looked out the window for a long time.
William disappeared down the slope and into the shed.
There are still three months left in this winter. Spring will come in three months, followed by spring planting, and once spring planting is over, it will be time for the farmers to get to work.
"I want to draw up three documents."
Pollifer had already taken out the charcoal sticks and was waiting.
"The first one. Military command authority."
Otto's voice was slow, each word like it was being chiseled in stone.
"Toren. In my absence, you have the authority to mobilize the Iron Oath Legion and the militia. But you may only mobilize troops in three situations—when an enemy crosses the boundary markers; when bloodshed occurs within the territory; or when someone attempts to breach the dry wells or destroy the salt kilns. Otherwise, even if the Duke's messenger arrives, you shall not move a single person."
Toren raised his head, his eyes carrying the weight of formal recognition. "My lord, if it comes with your orders—"
"I'm gone, so my orders are no longer valid," Otto interrupted him. "There are only three. Remember them well."
Toren nodded.
"Second document. Financial and diplomatic authority."
Otto looked at Pollifer.
"You may review all the accounts. But you have only one right: to refuse to spend. You have no right to promise anyone anything, no right to agree to any transaction, and no right to write any documents bearing your seal."
"If an envoy from a high-ranking noble family comes to negotiate, you only have two sentences—'The lord is not here; we'll talk when he returns.' Regardless of who the envoy is or what tone they use, only say these two sentences."
Pollifer carved these lines onto a wooden board, read them again, and made sure there were no extra words.
"Third document. Internal affairs and emergency authority."
Otto paused for a moment.
"Maria. In my absence, if an internal food shortage crisis occurs simultaneously, and Toren and Pollifer disagree on the matter—she will make the final decision. But this authority only applies in this one situation. At other times, she is only in charge of the internal treasury."
Polliver spoke up: "Sir, she's from House Frey."
"She's one of Hohenzollern's," Otto said. "She has been ever since she pierced someone's throat with an ice pick in the warehouse."
After the three documents were completed, they were stamped with the sealing wax seal of Baron Bluefork River.
Otto didn't immediately put the seal back in the box. He held the brass in his right hand and looked at it for a long time.
Torun understands the knife, but not the words. Pollifer understands the words, but can't withstand the knife. Maria understands money, but no one truly trusts her.
Each of the three people was missing a piece, and together they formed a dilapidated wall with gaps in different places.
Even a broken wall is still a wall. As long as no one attacks these three spots simultaneously, it won't collapse.
"Ilion."
The scholar waited at the door for a long time before coming in.
Otto looked at him. "Your raven, next time you go out, send a message to the Duke."
"Say: If the Hohenzollerns and the Ironborn invade, they are willing to lead their soldiers as the vanguard to defend against the attack. Please, Duke, decide."
Ilion did not immediately agree. He looked at Otto for a long time with those scholar's eyes.
"Does Your Excellency know how the Duke will respond?"
"The Duke will tell me how many troops to send, which route to take, and which general will be under his command," Otto said. "That's what he should know."
Otto opened his eyes.
Ilion was silent for a moment, then nodded and went out to write a letter.
Torun and Pollifer left the stone chamber one after the other.
The wind blew in through the cracks in the window, causing the oil lamp to tilt to one side.
Otto looked at the three documents on the table, each sealed with wax, and pressed down on a corner that had been lifted by the wind.
evening.
William Charlton was carrying an empty bucket back from the shed when he was stopped by the hunter guarding the side gate of the stone tower.
He was handed a quill pen, a small piece of parchment, and a small ceramic bottle containing ink.
There's another quote from the biography of Boliffer:
"The master said you can write to your father now. Tell him you're doing well here. Also, ask him how the old people near the East Tower of the Twins are doing."
William stood in the cold wind, looking down at the parchment in his hand.
He was not yet thirteen, but he understood that this was not an ordinary letter home.
He thought about it for a long time.
Finally, he sat on the threshold, dipped his brush in ink, and began to write.
The first word is "father".