If there was a job that peasants desired the most, it was undoubtedly to become an apprentice to a dwarf.
The salary and treatment for dwarf apprenticeships were not much different from other jobs; however, becoming an apprentice to a dwarf signified endless possibilities. Lords needed such skilled workers, particularly dwarf apprentices. Those who could gain approval from the notoriously stern and rigid dwarves were almost guaranteed a prosperous future.
This was one of the few paths to advancement other than being promoted to a sergeant.
Therefore, when the dwarf rune craftsman Delron-Feinson announced that he needed three apprentices, nearly all the peasants responded eagerly, all wishing to be selected.
"I don't need that many, only those under twenty years old who have worked for the lord or assisted local blacksmiths and carpenters, come forward," Delron-Feinson, now dressed in a satin outfit, said impatiently. "The rest need not apply. And if I find out any of you have lied to me, just wait, my beard witnesses everything!"
This statement frightened away most of the refugees. They looked at each other, and the majority chose to step back.
The refugees had come a long way to be here and didn't want to be sent away for deceiving a dwarf, known for their difficult nature. These stubborn fellows could approximate someone's age just by feeling the bones on their wrist.
Among the crowd, Raymond's eyes lit up. He was only seventeen this year, had served the knight lord, and had also assisted the local carpenter, acquiring some carpentry skills.
Raising his hand, he said, "Me! Mr. Dwarf, I am seventeen this year. I started working for the knight lord and the village carpenter when I was fifteen!"
Dwarves were exceptional craftsmen, whether as blacksmiths, stone masons, or carpenters, and their exquisite skills were envied by humans. Delron-Feinson, evidently hearing Raymond's call, responded in his imperfect Low Gothic, "Why are you shouting? I heard you."
Amid the envious glances of other refugees, Raymond approached the dwarf, who promptly squeezed Raymond's wrist firmly.
The dwarf's grip was strong, and Raymond winced in pain.
"Hmm, it seems you haven't lied to me. You do have the bones of someone seventeen or eighteen," Delron-Feinson nodded, then asked, "If I asked you to make a wooden board eighteen centimeters long, what would you do first?"
"I would first cut a piece of wood at least twenty centimeters long!" Raymond replied without hesitation. "Better long than short!"
"How do you usually handle wood?"
"Large wood with an axe, small wood with a saw!"
"What's the key to making a mortise?"
"This..." Raymond faltered, his face turning red. "I don't know, Mr. Dwarf."
"The key to making a mortise is to be vertical and square, cutting corners only produces mediocrity, which allows you to make the most of limited wood," Delron-Feinson nodded. The dwarf frowned slightly. "It seems you haven't been taught by the carpenter for very long."
"I... I'm sorry, Mr. Dwarf," Raymond lowered his head.
"That's fine. Young, and not overly taught by those low-skilled humans to produce only substandard work. Okay, my workshop needs someone like you. Whether or not I take you as an apprentice can be decided later, but I'll take this one." The rune craftsman nodded and said, "Deni, take care of this... what's your name?"
"My name is Raymond!" Raymond quickly responded.
"Arrange for this Raymond!" Delron pointed at Raymond's nose and instructed.
"Yes!"
The office swallowed up the refugees quickly; within just over an hour, they all found their placements.
Subsequently, Raymond and his family were arranged in a camp outside the city, temporarily provided with food until they began their jobs, after which the food supply would be cut off.
With a day left until work started, many peasants in the camp lit fires in the center, boiling water and eating the black bread supplied by the count, discussing the day's events.
Some local peasant archers and infantrymen joined them, eager to hear news from the north from these newcomers.
In this era, information was scarce, and this gathering was one of the few ways to learn about the outside world.
From the discussions, it became known that many of the northern refugees were from the principalities of Leonnais, Montfort, and Le-Angouleme, and the Atuwa Castle area. Connacht was a territory of the Holy Grail Knight, Duke Laon, who had spent over a decade on the Grail Path and was well aware of the common people's hardships, so the peasants there had a relatively easier life.
Holy Grail Knights, who usually spent years, if not decades, on their quests, were well informed about
the sufferings of the common folk. Knightly virtues included empathy for the peasantry, though unfortunately, not many knights possessed these virtues.
"Speaking of which, have you seen the Wizard's Tower? That tall tower that glimmers with a dazzling light?" The refugees began discussing the Wizard's Tower near the count's castle, known as Veronica's Tower of Dawn.
"Yes, it looks frightening. It's said that those terrible witches eat the hearts of a hundred babies every day to maintain their youth!" one of the peasants said fearfully.
"Ha, nonsense, do you even know what you're talking about? Your old village didn't even have a hundred babies in total, let alone a hundred a day. I suppose the village would have been eaten clean of even the mice within a week?" a local peasant infantryman retorted. "There are many witches in that tower; are they supposed to eat the entire city?"
The refugees around the fire burst into laughter, their spirits lifted by their resettlement.
"Anyway, it's a very tall, very large wizard's tower!" one of the peasants still said with a sense of awe.
Everyone acknowledged that the enormous size of the Wizard's Tower gave the peasants a great sense of oppression and fear.
"Speaking of which, the Lady's High Tower is right behind that wizard's tower!" another peasant interjected. "I heard from the locals that all the farmland here is top-grade, producing high yields, all thanks to the Lady's protection!"
"Praise the Lady!"
"Praise the Lady!!"
The group hurriedly praised the Lady of the Lake.
"Our count is very devout; he spends one day each week in the Lady's High Tower praying," one of the peasant infantrymen suddenly said admiringly. "He truly is the Lady's favored Holy Grail Champion."
"But isn't that area off-limits to commoners?" another refugee cautiously inquired. "How do you know?"
"My cousin's neighbor's fellow villager once served in the count's castle. He saw the count coming out of the Lady's High Tower late at night, looking tired. He must have received the Lady's teachings. Our lord is indeed devout!"
"Yes, truly devout!" the crowd exclaimed again.
Raymond thought this secret news sounded fabricated; traditionally, knights did not let peasants guard their manors and castles but relied on their squires and guards.
"To earnestly pray for the Lady's blessing and to ensure the land's high yield, our lord works hard. He is truly remarkable!" another refugee spoke.
"Yes, truly remarkable!" the others echoed.
Raymond nodded half-believingly; the Lady of the Lake was unlikely to appear before peasants, but Count Ryan, as her chosen Holy Grail Champion, was well-known even in rural areas. He thought this might still be possible.
Meanwhile, in the count's castle, Ryan was standing in the great hall of the inner castle, waiting for his fiancée to arrive.
"Ryan!" Sulia entered the hall with her entourage, clearly having dressed carefully for the occasion. Today she wore a double-breasted trench coat in butterfly flower color, her exquisitely beautiful face adorned with a slight smile. Her crystalline feet were clad in flesh-colored stockings and ivory high heels, her pearl earrings gently swaying. The engagement ring with the golden double-headed eagle on her left ring finger signified her betrothal.
Seeing Ryan waiting for her, the lady knight blushed, and taking advantage of the absence of others in the hall, she stepped closer to him: "I'm here."
"Sulia!" Ryan embraced the knight lady and gave her a light kiss, inhaling the scent of iris from her golden curly hair with a smile. "You're here, now I can relax. I have a lot of things I need your help with, my future wife!"
The dignified lady knight instantly blushed even more.
The couple, already engaged, was naturally closer now, and Sulia, although blushing, did not protest. The betrothed pair headed together towards the three-story building, with Olica, the lady-in-waiting, following behind and respectfully addressing Sulia as 'lady.'
Since becoming engaged to Ryan, Sulia's influence within Ryan's domains had grown rapidly. Not long into their engagement, everyone in the count's territories was already addressing her as 'lady,' and Ryan's knights and courtiers held her in high esteem.
This was the true nature of a great noble's daughter, Ryan thought to himself. She hadn't even married into the family yet but had already managed to command respect from top to bottom. Her gentle nature was one thing, but her sophisticated political acumen was undoubtedly inherited from Francois.
Holding his fiancée's hand, Ryan smiled warmly: "Has anything special happened recently?"
"Nothing much, it's been quite quiet over at Winfort. The peasants are busy harvesting winter wheat, and the knights are busy with their drills. By the way, Ryan, my
father thinks your fixed tax is very constructive. He plans to reform the tax system like you, changing the tithe to a fixed tax," Sulia said with a blush. "We'll need some guidance from your side later."
"Sure." For some reason, every time Ryan saw the lady knight in her regal demeanor, he couldn't help but want to kiss her.
And he did, kissing her again even as Sulia was about to speak.
Sulia closed her eyes, feeling dizzy with the kiss.
After a couple of minutes, the lady knight, breathless, sat next to Ryan on a sofa in the room. She playfully slapped him: "Ryan~ you! I won't come here anymore if you keep this up."
"Sulia, I've missed you," Ryan, holding the knight lady by her waist and smelling the fragrance of her hair, murmured dreamily. "It's been months."
"Ryan... I've missed you too," Sulia responded, moved by his words.
The couple shared a tender moment.
"Now it's all in your hands, Sulia. I'll be listening from the inner room," Ryan whispered.
"Alright!"
Half an hour later, in the count's castle conference room, several prominent merchants and the steward Carsenburg were waiting. They were enjoying Imperial beer, Brittany wine, and delicate pastries from the wood elves, waiting for the count to appear.
Steward Carsenburg stood by the empty chief seat, his tall, thin figure erect, temporarily entertaining the merchants. His wife had recently given birth to a boy, and with the count's permission, the child would grow up and be educated in the count's court as a knight-in-training. Carsenburg felt his life was full of hope.
The attending merchants included Oliver and Hadrian, who had good relations with Ryan, Ismael from Bordeaux, Fernand from the north, and Jacques from Winfort.
These merchants held vast wealth and maintained deep ties with local nobility.
"Good afternoon, everyone!" With the sound of high heels clicking on the floor, Sulia, dressed in a Brittany marquis's gown, appeared at the doorway, her maid Sylvia following behind.
"Good afternoon, lady!" The merchants instinctively stood up and bowed to Sulia.
Ismael from Bordeaux sneaked a peek at Sulia's noble figure, wondering if this meeting was to be led by Ryan's fiancée.
For this daughter of Duke Francois, nobles often talked; her beauty, demeanor, and capabilities were considered perfect. Many nobles had sought an alliance with Francois, but he had declined all offers.
It was said the lady wished to marry well: her suitor had to be a Holy Grail Knight, young, and of significant stature.
And she had indeed found one! Ismael mused that the Duke of Winfort's daughter was truly fortunate, engaged by the Lady herself in a match that no great noble could contest.
After sitting down and making small talk on trivial matters, Oliver, leveraging his close relationship with Ryan, was the first to speak: "Lady, we have encountered some problems recently."
"Problems?" Sitting at the head of the table, Sulia clasped her hands together on the table, her tone gentle but her gaze authoritative. The knight lady skillfully engaged everyone in the room, ensuring no one felt overlooked. "What kind of problems, Mr. Oliver?"
"Well, lady, recently... the northern sea routes... have been unsafe. Some merchant ships have gone missing; they haven't reached Marlinburg."
"Missing?"
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