The Seeds of Uprising

Everything unfolded precisely as Tall Otto had anticipated. The local Opava forces refused to obey Jaromir’s commands, and the Duke’s grand army had not been called upon to quell their uprising. The Bohemian Duke had, in fact, diverted his full attention to preparing for war against the Duke of Meissen in the northwest.

Within the lord’s chambers of Opava Castle’s main tower, two men were deep in conspiracy.

“How much longer until the soldiers promised by His Majesty the King arrive?” one man inquired.

“Soon,” the other replied.

“How many heavy infantry, and how many cavalry?” the first pressed further.

“No cavalry,” the respondent stated. “A mercenary company will be dispatched to assist you.”

Otto, the brute, slammed his fist onto the table. “This is clearly a golden opportunity to invade Bohemia! Why isn’t ‘the Valiant’ seizing this chance to attack? Caught between two fronts, the Bohemian Duke would surely be overwhelmed!”

The respondent, a Polish noble scion, was impeccably dressed in an embroidered wool tunic, a sea otter fur stole draped over his shoulders, and a noble’s felt hat adorned with a large feather.

Casually, he picked at the grime under his fingernails and remarked, “That Emperor is still watching like a tiger, you know. He just dealt with the Lutici people in the empire’s northeast.

His prestige is soaring, and his army’s morale is high. Now is not the time to break the peace treaty between Poland and Bohemia.”

“Such an opportunity, once lost, may never return!” Otto grumbled in frustration.

The Polish noble scion’s face showed impatience. “Is that not precisely why you were sent?

If you successfully instigate this rebellion and manage to fully occupy Opava Castle, His Majesty will then be able to lead his army deep into Bohemia. It would take but ten days to half a month to reach its heartland, and capturing the capital, Prague, within a month would be no issue.”

“I…” Otto stammered, his words catching in his throat. It sounded good, but despite having 400 men gathered under his command, his actual fighting force was negligible. They were the weakest kind of rabble, easily scattered by a dozen charging knights.

“What about food supplies, then?” Otto questioned again.

“You needn’t worry about that. They are already en route, along with fifty sets of heavy leather armor. These provisions should be enough for you to contend with Jaromir’s forces.”

“Then they must hurry. Jaromir’s army has already mustered and will likely reach Opava’s walls by early November.”

The Polish noble scion countered, “Instead of worrying about Jaromir, you should focus your main efforts on defending Hradec to the south.”

Otto was perplexed. According to his intelligence network, Hradec’s army had shown no movement after Jaromir’s envoy delivered a message to their mayor.

The Polish noble scion clarified, “The mayor of Hradec not only commands Varangians from the Greek Roman Empire, but he may also possess heavy Italian crossbows. With both ranged and close-quarters combatants, they are truly formidable.

His Great Majesty has long foreseen that Hradec would be a difficult adversary, relying on its towering walls. It might even impede the progress of our army in the future.

That is why you must capture that city beforehand, to provide an advantage for the kingdom’s army later on.”

Otto lowered his head in silence, then looked up again. “What will I gain from this?”

The Polish noble scion spoke softly, “Once all of Bohemia is conquered, His esteemed Majesty the King guarantees to enfeoff you as a baron of a territory. If matters proceed smoothly and His Majesty is pleased, he might even bestow upon you the title of count.

If you truly become a count, then you, my friend, will have finally made your mark.”

Otto scrutinized his expression, searching for any hint of insincerity. Yet, after observing him for a long while, the brute concluded that the words were genuine.

****

Their conversation concluded, and the Polish noble scion departed.

The moment he closed the door, a look of mockery flashed across his face, but he said nothing, striding away directly.

****

Throughout October, Noren recruited around 200 people from Opava. There could have been more, but her village lacked the provisions to sustain them, so the surplus was directed to Hradec.

Ever since the plague caused by rat meat, Hradec had been suffering from a manpower shortage. The farmlands outside the city walls and Hradec’s subsidiary villages all desperately needed people to cultivate them.

This wave of refugees from Opava would help replenish the depleted workforce.

When 200 people arrived from Ostrava, Noren felt the village instantly descend into chaos.

“What are we eating today?”

“Which way should we clear land?”

“Where are the tools?”

“Food, hungry!”

*Crack!* A tall woman swung a long whip, and the explosive snap silenced the clamoring crowd.

All the dirty Slavic peasants looked over.

She hadn’t wanted to resort to the whip, but shouting alone had yielded no results. Medieval peasants were often dull-witted, either ignoring commands or failing to understand them.

Therefore, she had to ensure they learned their lesson.

These ignorant people were no different from beasts; human compassion was utterly useless. Only with a stick and a carrot would they feel gratitude and remember her benevolence.

“Guards, present yourselves!”

Several burly Slavic men, averaging five feet four inches tall, stepped out from the crowd. They were more robust than the other refugees, some even exuding a fierce aura, clearly having taken lives before.

Noren didn’t care if they had killed or not. As long as they had wives and children and feared her, even if they were rebellious by nature, she could set them straight.

“Hmm, the equipment,” Noren beckoned with a finger. Hafdan dragged a wooden board laden with linen gambesons toward the Slavic strongmen.

She had forgotten to mention that Hafdan had arrived a few days prior; Wiz would only arrive later.

The Slavic strongmen donned their armor, and Hafdan then fitted them with iron helmets and handed them long spears. These men, peasants one moment, became raw recruits the next.

Some were excited, some stoic, and others fearful.

Noren began to boost their morale: “From today forth, you are guards of Ostrava, charged with maintaining order and defending our territory.

In return, from this day, you will eat military rations and receive military pay. You are no longer downtrodden farmers, no longer bad seeds from the gutters.

You serve your lord, you protect your people. You have escaped the past; you have embraced a new beginning. God will bless you, the villagers will respect you, and the vermin in the shadows will fear you.

Work hard, new recruits!”

After this impromptu morale boost, the guards’ expressions visibly transformed.

Their apprehension turned into steadfastness. Their spears were planted on the ground, and their backs straightened.

Noren placed several small cloth pouches into the guards’ hands.

Everyone looked on, puzzled, unsure of her intentions.

She smiled, opening a wooden box that shimmered with silver. Everyone gasped, and the temperature seemed to rise by one degree Celsius.

Hafdan executed a magnificent sword flourish with his war sword, cleaving a wooden stake in two. The restless crowd settled once more.

Noren approached, holding the box. “Open your pouches.”

“Oh! Oh!”

*Swish, swish…* The metallic rustling was incredibly pleasant, like silver coins laughing. Amidst their joyful sounds, the tiny silver sprites filled the guards’ money pouches.

“This is your salary for the coming year, paid to you in advance.”

“Work hard. I am not a stingy person.” Noren reached out, intending to pat a guard’s shoulder as encouragement.

However, seeing their dirty faces, she hesitated for a moment before retracting her fingers.