102: Flame Fist Leader

John was wiping mud from my scepter when he mentioned seeing his beloved last night.

The Holy Knight's squire's ear tips were red, and his fingers unconsciously caressed the secret pocket inside his breastplate—where Allie's return gift of a lavender sachet was hidden.

"Mary's father almost put the salt shaker on the shrine," George added, stifling a laugh by the window, "He looked like a miser who'd discovered a dragon's hoard, counting salt grains with a magnifying glass."

I rotated the map on the table, listening to them describe how Old George traded three salt crystals for his ancestral leaky roof.

"Aunt Lena from the end of the village chased me, asking," John suddenly lowered his voice, mimicking an old woman's raspy tone, "Does your Lord still need a maid who can brew blackberry wine?"

George suddenly knelt on one knee, holding a piece of coarse linen cloth with both hands: "This is honeycomb cake my mother baked overnight, she said it was for offering to…" He paused, then corrected himself, "Ahem, she said it was for the Lord's herbal tea."

When the cloth package was opened, I glimpsed a crooked family crest drawn in syrup on the burnt bottom of the cake—obviously the work of his eight-year-old sister.

"Don't forget the rules!" Randall took a small piece of the honeycomb cake and put it into his mouth.

"What did Allie say when she accepted the silk scarf?" I suddenly asked.

John's hand trembled, and sword oil dripped onto the camel hair carpet, staining it deeply. "She said... she said when my new house is built," the young Knight's Adam's apple bobbed violently, "she wants to borrow the Lord's kitchen to bake a wedding cake."

I laughed and said it was no problem, taking a bite of the honeycomb cake.

Although the City Hall was not far from the inn, we still spared no effort to replicate the full set of attire we wore when entering the city yesterday.

The honor guard was solemnly arrayed, the luxurious carriage glittered, and coupled with the splendid attire identical to yesterday's, everything was perfectly prepared, with nothing omitted.

Paying and signing took nearly an hour.

Most of the time was spent counting money; these people's math was simply terrible.

The bronze chandelier in the City Hall swayed in the morning light, and I caressed the obsidian at the top of my scepter, watching the scribes count gold coins like children playing with building blocks.

Eight thousand eight hundred coins formed a golden waterfall on the long oak table, and three accountants used three scales to weigh them.

"This is City Construction Officer Walker," Old Hather's breath carried a minty scent, perfectly covering the musty smell drifting from the corner, "His nephew has a patch of alfalfa on the west side of Gorebest."

I nodded to the official who was constantly wiping his silver-chained spectacles.

As Old Hather introduced most of the City Hall officials on duty who had come to pay their respects, a thin man in black burst through the door, causing a commotion.

The loud bang of the oak door being kicked open startled the gray pigeons on the beam.

The man in black stumbled in, clutching a faded parchment scroll.

"Baron Fernand's hunting ground has expanded by thirty acres, but the land deed tax is still at five years ago's rate!" He threw out yellowed land survey maps, their edges densely covered with the refusal seals of a dozen estate owners.

The City Hall guards were about to drag him away, but the man in black was still shouting loudly: "The government says every year that finances are tight, and taxes for the common people have been added one after another. But why are the taxes that these nobles should pay constantly delayed and not pursued? And why are you dismissing me? I want to see the City Lord!"

If this person's words were true, then Gorebest's politics were already decaying.

I covered my lips with my scepter and turned to Old Hather, saying, "When you have time, check if what this person says is true. You mentioned the local Thieves' Guild this morning; we can pay them to investigate as well. I want solid evidence."

After taking a nap at the inn at noon, I woke up to Randall informing me that Flame Covenant Red, the supreme commander of the Flame Fist Legion in Gorebest, had come to visit.

I quickly changed my clothes and received him in the suite's living room.

Flame Fist Commander Kovenreid was a strong, middle-aged human man, with black hair like mine, and a resolute face.

His sword was two inches longer than standard issue.

On the chest of his armor, a striking fiery red diamond-shaped pattern was drawn, its core being a burning Flame Fist in red and yellow.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lion Black, Lord of the Cloud Mist Mountain Northern Foothills territory." Kovenreid gave me a standard military salute, his deep voice carrying the scent of saltpeter, "I heard that you officially signed the territory inheritance certificate this morning."

"Your information is very well-informed." I gestured to him, inviting him to sit on the sofa opposite, "Respected Fuel Flame Kovenreid, please be seated."

"Thank you, Lord Lion. How have the Flame Fist lads been performing here these past two days?" Kovenreid sat down neatly on the sofa after I had taken my seat.

"Very good."

"I heard you plan to permanently employ the Flame Fist to go to your territory," Kovenreid asked.

"Yes, I plan to emulate Gorebest and Baldur's Gate by employing the Flame Fist Legion to garrison my territory. This year, I intend to hire twenty people, starting the day after tomorrow, to guard our caravan and buildings in the market for one month, and then follow us back to the territory. In the future, as the territory's population grows, the number will continuously increase," I said.

"Oh, that's fantastic. I mean, we Flame Fist are completely worthy of your trust." A hint of joy suddenly flashed across the commander's bronzed face.

"For the details, you can discuss with my Chief of Defense, Holy Knight Randall. I still have official business to attend to, so I will take my leave now." After I finished speaking, I stood up and accepted the bows of Randall and Kovenreid.

While I was drawing and writing in the bedroom, the first argument erupted next door.

"Ten thousand gold coins annual fee, including food and lodging, not including armor and weapons, and maintenance costs. My lads will ensure the safety of every salt brick in the territory." Kovenreid pushed the written contract to the center of the table, "Of course, if 'accidents' occur, compensation will be calculated separately."

"Ten thousand gold coins, you're robbing us! In Elturgard…" Randall's voice pierced through the wall. The Holy Knight was clearly restraining his anger, the clanging of his armor as regular as war drums.

The vibrations from Kovenreid's low chuckle made the bronze chandelier sway slightly, "This is the wealthy Sword Coast, on the trade route…"

The sudden bang of a table startled the jackdaws outside the window.

Old Hather slipped in with tea and pastries, the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls temporarily diffusing the tension.

"Lord Kovenreid loves this kind of honey pie the most." He winked, pushing a silver plate with intricate carvings towards the two men who were at loggerheads.

As the sun set, the negotiations finally took a turn for the better.

Through the crack in the door, I glimpsed the parchment scroll Randall unrolled; it was a secret ledger bought from the Thieves' Guild—detailing the compensation the Flame Fist Legion paid last year for 'accidentally injuring' a certain duke's business rival.

"Seven thousand five, twenty-one people, including at least one elite guard. We provide food, lodging, armor, weapons, and horses." The Holy Knight's fingertip pointed at a number circled in cinnabar, "Or we can use the Knights of Elturgard instead."

The commander's hand, which was caressing his sword hilt, suddenly froze, and the veins on the side of his neck bulged like coiled venomous snakes.

As he grabbed the honey pie and took a bite, crumbs stuck to his meticulously trimmed short beard: "Eight thousand, but only for security and defense. If there's a need for an expedition, an additional fee will be required."