She shouted at a man with a hoe, who was presumably the master of the household. The man seemed confused, but still obeyed her and made himself busy. Lawrence climbed off the wagon, with Holo close behind. As they walked in they noticed the young man from before leading an old man up to the house.
* * *
There were no tiles on the floor, nor was there a wooden or stone foundation - simply leveled soil. A hole in that soil served as a furnace, around which was arranged a table and wooden crates serving as chairs.
Wooden farm equipment was leaning against one wall, and criss-crossing strings of onions and garlic were suspended from the rafters above. And high up on a shelf along one wall there lay a white substance, perhaps yeast.
In spite of its shabby appearance, the interior was wide. It seemed to Lawrence that several families might live there, given the number of chairs, pots and bowls. Lawrence found inns pleasant, but having grown up in a poor family made him feel very much at ease in this type of environment. Holo, on the other hand, seemed unable to find this comfortable.
“Oh, I see. You two are heading north.”
“Yes. We’re going to Lenos.”
“I see.. well, our village is poor as you can see. It’s a great pleasure to have traveling merchants visit us.”
True to the old saying that one’s title influences one’s personality, those who were called ”village elders” all tended to dress in a curiously consistent fashion. The short, emaciated old elder of this village now bowed.
“Well, I think it’s God’s will that brought me here. And to be received with such hospitality. If there is anything I can be of assistance with, please do not hesitate to ask. Though I am but a humble merchant, I’ll do everything I can..”
“Our thanks.”
The smile on Lawrence’s face wasn’t just for the sake of rapport; it was genuine. He honestly felt as if he had been guided by God to visit the village.
“Then, let us thank God for bringing us together..”
After the blessing, Holo and Lawrence clinked their wooden cups together with a nod.
“Ah.. it’s such good beer.”
“How shameful.. We should be thanking God with wine, but grapes won’t grow on our land..”
“Well, God may determine the quality of wine, but it’s people who determine the quality of beer. And your village seems to possess some fine brewing prowess.”
The elder modestly shook his head, but he couldn’t cover up how happy he was to hear that. Holo silently watched this little play unfold from her seat next to Lawrence, but he knew she neither viewed it as foolish, nor found the food being served beneath her. After all, he couldn’t have missed the questioning glances she cast in his direction from time to time, as if asking “what exactly are you planning?”
“To be honest, this beer was brewed with a secret recipe.”
The elder began talking again, apparently happy their beer had earned some praise. To earn the affections of your elders you had to listen to them for a while, so Lawrence was feigning interest in the man’s conversation, until it suddenly became noisy outside.
“And then.. huh?”
The elder twisted his head around, and just then-
“Elder! Dray’s at it again!”
A man whose hands were covered in mud suddenly burst in, shouting and pointing outside in panic.
The elder rose to his feet and apologized to Lawrence.
“I’m so sorry.. something’s come up all of a sudden..”
“No, you’ve welcomed us so kindly, so please take your time and tend to your affairs.”
The elder bowed one more time before making his exit at the other man’s urging. It seemed that the village had a rule where the elder had to receive villagers, so when he left only Holo and Lawrence remained. People were around outside, so someone would come in and help them if they asked, but Holo seemed to be enjoying the moment of silence.
“Hey..”
“Would you like me to explain?”
She stuffed a handful of beans into her mouth before nodding.
”This is a colonial village.”
She repeated after him like a parrot.
”Colonial?”
“People colonize an area for a number of different reasons, but simply put they’re people who move out into the wilderness to establish new villages.. though once in a while they end up more like islands in the wilderness, like this.”
Holo rolled her eyes curiously, still drinking her beer.
“Why would they do that?”
She sounded like a little kid.
“You saw those large rocks and logs at the stream as we came into the village, right? Maybe they’re going to build a monastery.”
“Build.. a monastery?”
“Indeed. So-called monasteries are places of worship for the most devout believers. They can only serve their purpose - letting those followers lead chaste, virtuous lives of humble poverty - if they’re built in a remote place free of worldly temptations.”
Someone like Holo would see a monastery as a fortress of solitude, built upon a foundation of strict rules. It would probably be tough for her to survive even a single day in such a place.
But those who built such solitary fortresses weren’t all robed, honest lambs with bibles in their hands. Most of the villagers here probably had criminal relatives, or had been mixed up with heathens.
Building a remote monastery was an agricultural challenge. Not only did people have to construct the actual building, but they also had to plot out the fields and divert the streams necessary to sustain the monks who would live there. It was hard work, which they did to atone for their sins.
“Well, if that is the case..”
She seemed to have remembered the Churches’ nature mid-sentence. Given her intellect, she must have figured out the rest herself.
“Then you are surely scheming to take advantage of this situation.”
He knew she chose those specific words intentionally.
“I just want to help these poor folks.”
“As if. You wish to help them into opening a new business with you.”
His smile was born of the fact that this village was no different from a fish-filled lake no one had discovered yet. This was no longer an era where a village could be completely self-sufficient. Farming tools, equipment, livestock, clothing and looms; as soon as a village was established, so too were supply and demand.
People would be selling plump chickens and refreshing beer in a place like this. For a merchant, that was like finding a lost treasure. They could buy the chicken and beer in exchange for basic necessities, and if they were able to provide everything the village needed they could reel in profits more enticing than the finest beer in the world.
Holo seemed shocked at first, peeking at him as she sipped her beer. Then, with her ears quivering constantly under her hood, she turned to Lawrence and beamed him a satisfied smile.
“Then enjoy helping them.”
“?”
He didn’t get the chance to ask her to clarify. There came a knock at the door, and it swung open. The man who had called the elder a few minutes ago was standing outside. From that, Lawrence could guess why he was paying them a visit.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion. If you can read, would you help us?”
He was in a remote village where no merchants would normally visit, being asked if he was literate. It was no wonder why he stood up from his chair-crate, filled with the motivation born of having encountered such luck.
* * *
“Oh, spare me! We already agreed on this last time! Are you trying to go back on your word?! My field’s six levins big!”
“Don’t lie! Mine’s supposed to be six levins, and yours five! So why’s my field smaller than yours!? And why’d you put up this fence..”
No one had to explain the situation to Lawrence; he could clearly hear the argument in the distance. He knew what it was immediately. From their talk of ??
?levins,” it was clear where they had immigrated from. It was a nation of forests and lakes named Riveria, where a wise and just King named Levin the Second ruled.
A unit of land was named after him - the length of his arm-span when he raised his arms. But no matter how wise the King, land disputes would always take place. The elder had no idea what to say to settle the dispute.
In newly-founded villages like this, elders didn’t have the authority they normally would have. Without that kind of authority - and the ability to think outside the box - he’d never be able to put an end to these disputes.
”Elder, our visitors are here.”
“Oh dear, oh my..”
The hapless elder looked over at Lawrence, and relaxed like he’d just spotted his savior.
“I have a very awkward request.”
“There’s a dispute over land distribution?”
Anyone doing business between villages on a long-term basis would run into these situations - they occurred quite frequently, but the elder seemed to have concluded that Lawrence was a man of wisdom, based on the impressed look on his face that screamed “You’re completely right.”
“This land belongs to a noble, who asked us to tend to it. Since then we’ve always had quarrels like this. Sometimes we manage calmly, but there’s some bad blood between those two..”
The two men’s argument had quickly devolved from a relatively logical debate to an exchange of insults. A circle of villagers were watching them from a distance, looking quite annoyed. Only Holo seemed to be amused by the spectacle.
“In that case, there should be a deed or contract of some sort?”
That would probably be why Lawrence was asked if he was literate. The elder nodded and pulled out a piece of parchment.
“This is the one, but no one here can read what’s written on it.”
An illiterate village was like a treasure chest that wasn’t even locked. Merchants knew how to convert an agreement into a written contract, so how long could one remain honest in a place like this where no one was able to read what had been written?
“Please let me take a look.”
Such villages were rare, and it was even rarer for a merchant to be lucky enough to earn the first bucket of gold they had to offer. Lawrence turned to the parchment with a straight face, but his excitement was tough to contain.
“Oh, this is..”
Having finally tried to read the paper, it dawned on him that there was no free lunch to be had here after all. He smiled and internally laughed at himself. When he looked at the expectant expression on the elder’s face, his smile became a bitter one. Of course no one could read it.. it was written in the Church’s holy language.
“There are a few among us who can read, but not this.. we suspect it’s written in a foreign language.”
“No.. it’s written in the language of the Church.. I can only read a few set phrases and numbers..”
Lawrence had seen other instances of the Church writing deeds of land ownership and certificates for special privileges. Holo took a look as well, but it seemed beyond her abilities as well. She quickly lost interest and turned her attention back to the ongoing quarrel.
“Ah.. I see where the problem is.”
Lawrence read through the terms twice before drawing his conclusion. He asked a question to confirm.
“Those two were craftsmen before, weren’t they?”
Holo snickered mischievously under her hood when the two men finally lost it and their argument became a brawl. But the villagers rushed in to break them up at that point. The elder seemed to be debating whether to rush in as well, but when he heard Lawrence’s question he immediately looked at him in amazement.
“That’s right, but.. but how did you know..”
“Well, the land is supposed to be evenly distributed so everyone gets six levins.. that much is right. But see right here..”
Lawrence pointed at a word in the text, and the elder squinted at it. But he didn’t know what it meant to begin with, so that wouldn’t solve much.
“This says ‘sheepfold.’ One of their sheepfolds is six levins, and the others is five.”
The elder vacantly stared at the parchment for some time before it seemed to sink in. He closed his eyes tightly and knocked himself on the head in disbelief before he whispered.
“So that’s what it was..”
“Ahh.. so they didn’t know there were sheepfolds.”
It was vital for villagers to know how their land was to be distributed. The terms and conditions of how it would be done here would of course have been explained orally to these illiterate folks. But if they didn’t know the words and units being used, it was all for naught. All they would remember was the numbers, and that would inevitably lead to endless disputes.
“It says here that Mr. Hay Barton donated a little more to the monastery, so he’s the one who was assigned the six levin sheepfold.”
“He’s the one on the left.. damn.. to think that they were fighting over that..”
“Just hearing the word sheepfold makes it sound simple, but if you’ve never actually touched on the subject you’d have a tough time understanding the implications.”
True to its name, a sheepfold was the fenced-in area encircling the sheep on a plot of land. But the main purpose wasn’t to raise the sheep themselves, but to keep them from straying so they would fertilize the land around the monastery.
Obviously, a large sheepfold encircled a large number of sheep while a smaller one contained fewer, but sheepfolds weren’t measured by the number of sheep they meant to hold, but the amount of land being encircled. Some villagers had sheepfolds large enough to fill their fields with sheep, while others could at most fill half their land.
The village elder thanked Lawrence profusely before running off to settle the dispute. He spread out the parchment and explained the situation to the arguers, who had drawn a crowd of villagers. Lawrence watched the scene unfold, smiling in satisfaction at a job well done. The two men soon settled the problem and roughly - and grudgingly - shook hands.
“What? That was all it took?”
Her tone of regret emphasized just how quickly the dispute had been resolved, as she watched the two shake hands in reconciliation.
“Memories easily fade, but written words do not.”
Lawrence’s mentor had taught him that. It was the reason traveling merchants couldn’t keep up with city merchants. They had to remember each transaction, while city merchants recorded them in ledgers. In a dispute, the written word always won.
“A business can’t possibly expand when there are disputes like this breaking out all the time, so contracts are crucial.”
She murmured grudgingly, her interests dashed by his words.
“You were planning on breaking your promise to buy me chickens as well.”
“So, there you have it.”
The elder turned and bowed to Lawrence as he and Holo spoke. Lawrence gently waved back. It actually felt quite good to be able to help someone out, he thought to himself.
* * *
For solving their problem, the villagers happily butchered another chicken and roasted it for them for dinner. Of course it was free, and although there wasn’t any other kind of liquor, there was enough beer for them to drink to their hearts content. It stood to reason that Holo should be satisfied, but she actually ate as frugally as a modest nun at the feast, soon leaving the table.
A house was prepared for the two of them, and she had excused herself and was taken there. Perhaps their trip had been too tiring and the meat-based cuisine and alcohol had proven too much for her stomach. Unable to discount that possibility, Lawrence participated in the banquet a little while longer for the sake of courtesy before heading back to their lodgings as well.
It was their third day traveling in the harsh winter - just the length of time needed to determine whether one could take such a trip. Even someone conditioned for it would exhaust themselves quickly without sufficie
nt caution. Holo had already felt unwell several times during their journey. Even the Wisewolf, an incarnation of the harvest spirit of wheat, wasn’t exempt from fatigue.
After being led by the villagers to the home they were staying in, Lawrence opened the door and was greeted by quiet darkness. Taking an oil lamp, Lawrence found that the villagers had lined up some crates to form a bed for them in the center of the room. They themselves usually slept on grass, meaning that Lawrence and Holo were being treated as important guests.
What he wasn’t sure about was why they had only prepared a single bed; did the villagers lack the materials for a second bed, or were they just being ”considerate?” In any case, Holo had already rolled up into a ball on the bed, and pulled the covers over herself. He spoke to her softly.
“Are you alright?”
If she was asleep, Lawrence had no intention of waking her. If she hadn’t recovered after one night, then he could just spend some money and live in this village for a little longer. With that thought, he blew out the candle and hopped onto the grass-covered bed, pulling the thin linen blanket over himself. He was worried that he might rouse her, but he didn’t.
Though it was only a bed matted with hay, it was still much more comfortable than sleeping on the box seat of his wagon. That said, the only light in the room was what little moonlight crept in through the small holes used to vent smoke from the furnace, so all he could see as he lay there face-up was the ceiling and a few beams.
He closed his eyes and thought back on the village’s situation. It had thirty or forty people. It was surrounded by forests and streams, and had ready access to honey, fruit, and fish. It was also on land suitable for grazing, quite fertile despite an abundance of rocks here and there.
Even if they simply built a monastery here, they could support over a hundred people. If they didn’t yet have a merchant looking after them, he could control the trade to and from this place. During their feast, he had chatted with the villagers about trading for ironworks and cattle.
If a noble was willing to allocate a remote piece of land for a monastery, either he or someone he knew was likely near death’s doorstep.