"At least assign me two, no, four guards," Rogan said, feeling a bit sour as he made the request, "dedicated to protecting me alone." Why did he have to ask Zalanda for something like this when he himself was a baron of the Nort Family?
No, once he reached Darama, he would have to replace the captain of the guards, no matter what. He still had that much authority.
Rogan steeled himself inwardly, he had had enough of the feeling of being ridden roughshod over by his own knights.
"No problem, Lord Baron. Even if you hadn't asked, I would have done it anyway, as the road to retreat is not the same as being inside the castle," Zalanda agreed without hesitation, "Since that's the case, let's begin!"
Zalanda was as decisive and efficient as ever. After finalizing the agreement with Rogan, she immediately gathered everyone except those on duty to the small square in front of Nosenburg.
Zalanda turned to Rogan, who sat on the platform, and said, "Lord Baron, don't you want to say something to the lieges?"
Rogan stretched his neck to look below, seeing people squeezed close together, buzzing and whispering, and feeling a bout of nervousness, he waved his hand dismissively and said irritably, "You do it, you do it, it's all the same anyway."
Although Rogan had now inherited the barony of the Nort Family, revered by the lieges as 'Milord' or 'Your Lordship,' he was in actuality only two years older than Gaven.
Their father, Baron Tessen, was a powerful Transcendent, or, less flatteringly put, a crude martial warrior with only average abilities in managing his domain. He had relied on Zalanda's father and later on Zalanda himself.
Baron Tessen had largely left Rogan and Gaven to fend for themselves. Gaven's circumstances were a bit unique, having been by Zalanda's side, he had learned a thing or two.
Rogan, on the other hand, had been brought up like a pig by Oster, devoid of learning and excelling only in eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling; he lacked knowledge in anything else.
They had thought that they could rely on Baron Tessen for decades, but then the old baron had a sudden whim last year. He organized an elite force to eradicate the Monster Tribe in the Marching Mountains, only to never return.
Not even a messenger who had been sent to deliver news came back. A high-ranking priest was hired at a great cost to cast the Complete Resurrection Spell, but there was no response, leaving everyone uncertain whether Baron Tessen had met with misfortune, or whether it was simply too late, and their souls had already faced judgment and reincarnated.
That's how Rogan found himself abruptly thrust into his role, relying on Zalanda in all matters. He had made less than ten appearances before the lieges, which is why it was no surprise that the lieges of the Nort Family knew only of Zalanda Stardine and not of Rogan Nort.
"People of Nort, this is the most perilous moment in the history of Nort Castle. We must unite and overcome this hardship together. The kind and glorious guardian of Nort Castle, Lord Rogan Nort, has agreed to open the ancestral armory and lend the weapons and equipment within to all our lieges to help us overcome this crisis. Let us thank the Lord of Nort..."
A gentle breeze wafted through Zalanda's waist-length fiery red hair and the red cape draped over her, setting them aglow in the lingering sunset that fell upon her beautiful and resolute face.
From start to end, she didn't shout herself hoarse but spoke with a full, clear voice and controlled rhythm that reached far across Nort Castle, allowing most to hear her distinctly.
Each brief pause prompted waves of cheers, each one louder than the last.
This was why the future generations of Tesser People would hold Zalanda in such esteem, affectionately referring to her as 'The People's Zalanda,' not just because she regarded each person as her kin and liege, but also because she had the capacity to easily mobilize the lieges' morale by opening the Nort Family's armory.
The distribution of equipment was orderly yet busy, with the Nort Militia under Zalanda's command displaying an organization and discipline surpassing that of a regular army.
Gaven wasn't surprised by this; though he lacked the title of a Nort Militia member, he was one in practice, having trained alongside them for a full eight years.
What seemed like a matter of course, when compared with his experiences in later years, gave him insight into the Zalanda father-daughter's own approach to training the troops. Especially Zalanda, who was known for her self-discipline and obsession with training. Whenever the militia was assembled, she would eat, live, and train with them. After more than a decade of this regimen, it would be difficult not to produce elite soldiers.
Now with the Nort Family's collection of equipment amassed over the years, these youngsters had only one weakness—a lack of extensive combat experience.
Once that gap was filled, the Nort Militia would transform into the Nort Elite Soldiers, and they would become Zalanda's original foundation.
"What are you doing?" When Zalanda snapped back to reality after a flurry of activity, she noticed that Gaven had been following her around, looking here and touching there, and somehow managed to equip himself with armor that, no matter how one looked at it, was somewhat awkward.
His gear consisted of a studded leather armor as a base, over which he wore a chain shirt. Although both were considered light armor, wearing them together transformed it into medium armor.
On his left hand, he wore an elbow-length iron gauntlet that lacked a palm, over which was a thin leather glove. He held a small round shield, while his right hand wore the simplest of leather gloves. His legs were protected by spiked kneepads, and he wore boots that clearly concealed daggers.
A one-handed sword was strapped to his back, and his waist was equipped with at least one dagger and a hand axe. On his right hip hung a handheld crossbow, and on his left was a flintlock gun in the style of Landan Island and Gnome design.
He strapped a bandolier across his chest and tied a belt packed with combat potions around his waist, which was bulging with various small items.
When Zalanda glanced at him, he was struggling to pull an overshirt over his gear.
"Arming myself," Gaven said matter-of-factly. "When we retreat, combat could become very frequent. The captain will be stretched thin, so I have to take care of myself. I might even be able to offer some assistance to the captain. Don't forget, I'm also a member of the Nort Militia."
"Substitute! I don't recall officially approving your enlistment," Zalanda corrected solemnly, but she did not insist that Gaven remove his equipment.
What Gaven said was true; once they started their retreat, she wouldn't be able to devote much attention to him. He would mostly need to protect himself.
It wasn't just Gaven who was doing this. On another front, Rogan, along with Oster and four personal guards freshly dispatched to their side, were also rummaging through the equipment stores of Nort, outfitting themselves with the best gear available.
This was their right, and Zalanda had no grounds for objection.
Fortunately, as the Nort Family had been accumulating wealth for a century, they had indeed amassed quite a hoard. There were not many pieces of magic equipment, but there was no shortage of excellent gear, some even crafted by Dwarves.
Not only had the entire Nort Militia been equipped, even the commoners were provided with several pieces of protective gear and weapons for self-defense. Longspears and crossbows were particularly prized by Zalanda.
She prioritized their distribution, ensuring that even women and children had a weapon in their hands. In times of chaos, relying on oneself is paramount.
Thanks to these crossbows, with the support of the wagon fort, they could still provide significant assistance, even if they just fired randomly because every Nort Militia member was now equipped with at least one suit of scale armor. There were also fifteen sets of half-plate armor and five sets of full-plate armor—Rogan and his men had taken the other five sets of full-plate armor.
To Zalanda, it was sufficient. Two teams of ten heavy infantry were more than enough to deal with those poorly equipped Monster Tribe rabble. They were like lethal weapons.