After Baron Caidong's fierce words, the meeting room fell into an unexpected silence; hardly anyone paid him any attention. "Baron Fulton, if you still have the energy, please use it against the Hafdan people. We are here for a meeting today, not for a fight," said Baron Kloh, Edward Craven, who had been consistently challenged. He looked around the meeting room, observing the several barons and knights present, each with a different expression and mindset according to their current situation.
For instance, some unfortunate souls, caught off guard by the Hafdan's raid, lost nearly all their vassals and saw their villages reduced to ashes. They suffered such losses that they almost lost all their status in noble circles. It was evident that after such a blow, they might never stand up again. If it weren't for their castles and the few dozen or hundred guards they still had, they wouldn't even have the right to step into this meeting room.
Some might think this view too pragmatic or cynical, but that's the harsh reality. Regardless of your nobility or title, losing your land or people equates to losing everything. They could potentially reintroduce new vassals from the kingdom's inland, reviving their lands to regain status in noble circles, but that would take years, if not decades. For now, they were finished.
Those who only retained their titles were the most stable-minded. Having lost everything, they were in no rush. Their castles still had enough food to sustain themselves and their guards, hoping that the northerners would retreat on their own without gambling their last assets. If they lost even that last card, their chance of resurgence was nil.
Then there were those with minimal losses, who managed to save their people from the Hafdan thanks to timely warnings. Their villages might have burned, but their vassals had fled to the safety of their castles. These nobles were eager for a decisive battle with the Hafdan. After all, their castle's limited food supply couldn't sustain hundreds, or a couple of thousand, people for months. They were the most desperate, like Baron Caidong.
Others, like Baron Henry Lockwood of Hangdi Rivermouth, whose lands remained untouched, were in a dilemma. On one hand, they feared continued hesitation would bring the Hafdan to their doorstep, incurring needless losses. On the other, they worried proactive attacks might backfire, especially if the Hafdan had no plans to attack them, akin to seeking trouble.
Their fortunate yet conflicted stance made them hesitant and indecisive. However, one pressing issue loomed over everyone, unspoken yet universally understood - the state of their fields.
It was March, the growing season for rye. Aside from those who had lost everything, whose lands didn't have hundreds or thousands of acres of rye seedlings awaiting care? Wheat doesn't just grow on its own. To reap a harvest, farmers must invest effort and labor. But now, with everyone hiding in castles for fear of the Hafdan, who would tend to the crops?
If the Hafdan couldn't be driven away soon to resume production, everyone would face starvation. This pressing matter meant the nobles had to fight, and quickly. Delaying for a month or two would be too late.
"Damn it, how many Hafdan are there really? Can't anyone give an exact count?!" Baron Lockwood finally lost his patience. "They've been here for a week, plundering and slaughtering unchallenged, and we don't even know their exact numbers! What are you all doing?!"
He slammed his fist on the table, fuming. Despite being equals as barons, some were annoyed by Lockwood's tone but held back, given the rich and powerful Hangdi Rivermouth's near-zero losses in the crisis and the need to rely on him. So, no one spoke up.
"We must fight, but how?" Lockwood continued. "First, we need to ascertain the enemy's numbers, their location, and strategy before deciding our next move. Otherwise, we're fighting blind."
"But our guards can't be trusted, and the cavalry lacks experience in independent combat!" someone argued.
"Then send the knights!" Lockwood commanded. "I want complete intelligence on the Hafdan within three days. Steal, rob, count them one by one - just bring me all their details!"
Meanwhile, in Baron Talgas' domain, ten days since the Hafdan invasion had passed, and Baron Gwynnis began efforts to restore agricultural production. He first cleared the domain with guards and archers to ensure no Hafdan stragglers or hidden squads remained. Then, he dispatched cavalry in a fan-shaped spread, occupying several nearby hills as vantage points, vigilantly monitoring the surrounding areas for any large enemy movements.
Next, he pushed the people back to their fields. They checked the fields, watering dry soil, weeding, and thinning out dense areas. Under the guards' protection, the people were working hard to get everything back on track.
To Gwynnis' surprise, the wheat seedlings were thriving. Despite being untended for a while, they showed no signs of neglect. They were growing robustly, absorbing sunlight, water, and nutrients.
As far as the eye could see, the fields were a lush green, pleasing to the eye. Gwynnis bent down beside a crouching vassal, who was examining the soil, his face confused. "What's wrong? Any problems with the wheat seedlings?" Gwynnis inquired.
The vassal, initially anxious, respectfully greeted Gwynnis before answering somewhat bewilderedly. "No, my lord, there's no problem. It's just... strange. Despite no one tending them for so long, these seedlings look unaffected, rather healthy. I've never seen such beautiful seedlings. How could this be..."
Gwynnis straightened up and gazed across the wheat fields. Everywhere he looked, he saw life dancing joyously. A gentle breeze wafted by, carrying the fresh scent of wheat, a natural fragrance, delightfully pleasant.
Seeing the people's perplexed yet joyful expressions and their whispered discussions, Gwynnis smiled faintly, feeling immensely proud.