A Harsh Lesson and a New Beginning

Indeed, some people only learn through force; these commoners simply need a harsh lesson to fall in line.

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The tall, blonde girl wiped blood from her knuckles. A group of ragged Slavic farmers lay prostrate before her.

The old farmers were bruised and swollen, some missing several teeth. They dared not even breathe deeply, clenching their jaws to stifle their groans.

Noren approached the stoutest of the commoners, gazing down at him imperiously, leaving no room for refusal. “Are there any villages around Opava where many displaced people have gathered? Take me there.”

The sturdy man immediately grew anxious. “Noble lady, we just fled Opava. It’s in complete chaos now, and the surrounding villages have long been plundered clean. There’s nothing left to take!”

The man clearly assumed Noren was a brigand, seizing the opportunity to loot. This was understandable; most people judged others by themselves, and nobles were often seen as greedy vampires in the eyes of commoners.

Noren moved towards a woman cradling an infant. She knelt, gently poking the baby’s plump cheek with her finger.

Upon looking up at the woman, Noren observed her sallow, emaciated face, concluding that she had likely given her last drops of milk to the child.

The girl stood, spreading her arms wide. “Tell me, do you wish to eat your fill?”

The old farmers exchanged hesitant glances. They could not fathom Noren’s true intentions. The stout man, their leader, remained silent, understanding that this was a noble seeking to recruit serfs or tenant farmers for her land.

However, a half-grown boy behind the stout man could no longer bear the hunger. He was at an age of rapid growth and, being alone, did not have the same family burdens as the sturdy man.

The boy cried out, “Yes! Of course, we do! We dream of a full meal!”

The stout man merely glanced back at the boy’s emaciated form, swallowing the words he had been about to speak.

‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘simply being able to eat one’s fill is a blessing. What more could one possibly hope for in times like these?’

The stout man asked, “Are there any conditions?”

Noren smiled. “The condition is that you become my father’s liegemen.”

“This…” Everyone present hesitated. In Opava, they had at least been freemen, possessing homes and land, or at worst, tenant farmers for wealthy families.

From the blonde lady’s words, it seemed she intended to make them slaves.

Noren’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then she smiled again. “While you currently hold the status of freemen, your fields in Opava lie fallow, your homes are occupied by rebels, and without food, you can only await death.

If you come to my father’s barony, you can clear land and cultivate it. There will be no taxes for the first year, and only half the usual tax in the second. We will also lend you wheat seeds and tools, and permit you to cut trees to build homes.

Furthermore, we are recruiting guards to protect the territory. Some of you might even get to eat military rations!”

The stout man cautiously observed the girl’s exquisite beauty, weighing the truthfulness of her words. He then inquired, “The entire Opava County has never had a baron, I wonder…”

The girl lifted her head proudly. “My father, Svein the Wise, will formally receive his enfeoffment from Jaromir next year, becoming a baron. You should feel honored to be among the first liegemen of his newly established barony!”

The stout man immediately fell to his knees, prostrating himself and begging for mercy. “Forgive my offense, I did not mean to question the Baron’s status…”

Noren ordered everyone to rise, then pointed to the cart of grain behind her. “If you follow me south now, back to Ostrava, I will be responsible for your sustenance, ensuring you can eat meat once a month.

If you do not wish to come with me, I will give each of you two pounds of wheat and one pound of beans.

However, I must warn you: Jaromir’s army may already be on its way. The rebels within the castle will surely not survive, and you displaced people might even be killed for sport by the soldiers. If you return with me, at least your lives will be guaranteed.

So, choose!

Will you come south with me?

Or will you take the grain and be gone!”

Everyone fell into contemplation. Just as they wavered, the half-grown boy from earlier jumped forward.

He shouted, “I’ll go with you!”

Noren pointed to Tolke. “If you come with me, stand beside him.”

The boy walked over, and Tolke handed him a piece of smoked jerky. The boy, stunned, took it, bit into it, chewed slowly, then frantically gobbled down the rest of the jerky, licking his fingers clean afterward with lingering satisfaction.

Witnessing this, the remaining people quickly stood and moved to Tolke’s side.

“Yours… this is yours… take it…” Tolke pulled pre-cut strips of smoked meat from a cloth bag and distributed them.

The farmers ate, tears streaming down their faces. The sight stirred a deep sense of pity within the blonde boy, and he began to truly understand Noren’s mission to recruit these refugees.

Tolke looked at the tall girl’s profile, a surge of responsibility welling within him. ‘I must assist her, develop this territory well, and ensure all commoners have enough to eat!’

Having endured last year’s famine and plague, and witnessed the most wretched conditions of serfs in Osbrück, the boy could now intimately appreciate the prosperity of Hradec and the happiness of the villagers under Svein’s rule.

The happiness of Svein’s villagers was inextricably linked to the sustained efforts of this blonde girl.

Though Noren possessed a fiery temper, a heavy fist, and many rules, along with a slight obsession for cleanliness, Tolke understood her.

‘She is merely cold on the outside, warm within,’ he thought. ‘She may call them ‘commoners’ and ‘rabble,’ but when the time calls for kindness, she is kind, and when courage is needed, she is always at the forefront.’

‘Perhaps this is why I admire her,’ he mused, ‘and perhaps I also like her appearance a little.’

‘Of course, I also want to… hmm… see Noren’s majestic Great White Tiger again. No impure thoughts, just a desire to play with it.’

Tolke averted his gaze from the girl’s profile, bent slightly, squeezed his legs together, and a soft snort escaped his nostrils.

Noren’s ear twitched. She turned to look. ‘What strange posture is Tolke in?’

She tilted her head in confusion, then suddenly seemed to recall something. Her eyes narrowed, a scrutinizing look in their depths.

Her gaze shifted downwards, and realization dawned!

She instinctively covered her chest with one hand and her backside with the other. After a moment, she lowered her hands. ‘After all, I’m wearing linen soft armor! What could Tolke possibly see?’

Her beautiful eyes glared fiercely at the blonde boy.

The meaning of that look was unmistakable: ‘What kind of occasion is this? Is this where you, young man, get all hot and bothered?’

The commoners, however, paid no attention to the subtle interaction between the blonde boy and girl. They were either kneeling, sweating in fear, or weeping openly as they ate the jerky. These people hadn’t even achieved basic warmth and sustenance.

They certainly weren’t thinking of lust like some northern barbarians.

Noren looked at the kneeling stout man and the woman holding the infant; only their family remained. Noren knew his worries: he feared the provided food wouldn’t be enough, that he wouldn’t be able to support the mother and child.

Her patience wearing thin, she spoke directly. “How old are you? What is your name?”

If the man was young, she considered making him a guard; finding sturdy men was difficult these days.

“Eighteen, Kraf.”

“Cough, cough…” Noren nearly choked on her own saliva. She re-examined the man’s appearance—

The soft contours of a Slav’s face, yet with collagen loss, sagging cheek muscles, coarse pores, and wrinkles… Anyone would believe him to be forty!

Eighteen! ‘Surely, he’s lying!’

The woman beside him, however, looked remarkably young. Noren decided to ask her.

“How old are you? And what is your name?”

“Thirty-two, Krava.”

“Pfft!” The girl quickly covered her mouth, barely suppressing a laugh.

She scanned back and forth between the two. ‘Well, well, young man, you certainly discovered the pleasures of the flesh early!’

‘No wonder he’s aged so prematurely at eighteen, and no wonder the thirty-two-year-old woman looks so young. He’s been drained!’

“Alright then, I, Noren, daughter of Svein, appoint you as a security guard under the Baron of Ostrava. Carry a sack of grain and head south. When you see a beautiful white house, you will have arrived in Ostrava!”

Noren effortlessly lifted a seventy-pound sack with one hand, tossing it lightly before the stout man. She then called out to the other farmers, “Don’t even think about running off with this grain. How many days will that amount last you? Follow me south steadily, and when I return, I will ensure you all have a full meal!”

Kraf shouldered the grain sack, gathered the others, and, after acknowledging Noren, set off southward.

Once the group had departed, Noren walked towards Tolke, her smile twitching with suppressed fury.

She clenched her fists, her wrists cracking with a ‘kaka’ sound, and said with a sweet smile, “Well, well, young man, have you forgotten what I said last time? Let’s see whose ‘thing’ is harder, yours or my fist!”

The girl pinned the boy to the ground, her peach-sized backside landing on Tolke’s back like Mount Tai, thoroughly chastising the ‘horny golden retriever pup.’

As for Tolke… he was in pain, yet also in bliss…