SWDnovel Chapter 6: The Iron Oath
Chapter 6: The Iron Oath
The Blue Fork Valley is enveloped in a humid heat that is almost sticky.
Even though it was nominally late autumn, there was still no chill in the air. The river water emitted a grayish-white mist under the scorching afternoon sun, and the weeds on both banks grew as tall as a person, a dark green that seemed to be encroaching on every inch of the newly cleared land.
This kind of weather is another nightmare for pioneers.
Food spoils in half a day, and wounds easily rot if soaked in sweat for too long. The most terrifying thing is the greenbottle flies that swarm around piles of dung, stagnant water, and rotting flesh.
Inside the 32-foot-long wooden frame house, there was no fire for heating. The straw mats on both sides were rolled up, allowing the hot air to circulate freely.
The fifteen people split into two groups.
Old farmer Matt, with Martha by his side, was carefully sorting through the old wheat sent by the Freys in the shade. The long summer humidity made the wheat grains extremely susceptible to insects, so Otto ordered them to handle each grain, remove any black spots, mix them with dried mint leaves, and store them in wooden barrels coated with quicklime for moisture protection.
On this sweltering afternoon, only this almost pathological method of preservation could save the lives of these fifteen people.
In the open space outside the longhouse, heavy footsteps maintained a steady rhythm.
Otto stood in the shade of a tree, carrying a bucket of cold water he had just drawn from a shallow well, and poured it over his bare back. His skin was tanned bronze by the long summer, and sweat streamed down his back.
Before him, five hunters and two burly men, shirtless, were repeating spear-stabbing training on the scalding mud.
"You're moving too slowly. Blink away if sweat gets in your eyes, don't wipe it with your hands."
Otto's voice was exceptionally clear in the sweltering air.
He pointed to the newly dug pit next to the open space.
"Polliver, take note. Who went to get their oatmeal without washing their hands today?"
Pollifer wiped the sweat from his brow and quickly carved a mark on the dry wooden board.
"It's those two burly new men, sir. They think it's too hot and water is precious, so there's no need—"
"Reduce their rations by half. Send them to clear bushes in the woods until sunset."
Otto interrupted coldly.
"In the long summer, the claws of plague lurk in the cracks of your fingernails. Whoever wants the whole camp to die of diarrhea, I'll let him starve to death first."
This harsh, almost cruel law initially drew widespread resentment from the displaced people.
But they soon discovered that a shack area downstream, also home to dozens of refugees, had experienced a dysentery outbreak the previous week, with over a dozen corpses being carried out in just three days. Meanwhile, the people of Hohenzollern territory, though sunburnt and exhausted from rigorous training, had not fallen ill.
Fear is more effective than preaching.
"Sir, the Freys have arrived."
Hunter Jack, who was on guard duty from the high ground, was dizzy from the sun and shouted weakly.
Otto donned his sweat-soaked linen robe and placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword. On the horizon, Raymond Frey appeared at the edge of the ferry crossing, swatting away mosquitoes and cursing under his breath, with ten light cavalrymen.
When Raymond Frey stepped into the longhouse, he was immediately struck by the strangely refreshing feeling inside.
There was no stench as he had imagined, nor were there any flies buzzing around. The ground was swept clean, and he could even smell a faint scent of quicklime and mint.
In the long summer of the river region, this was almost a miracle.
He looked at the men standing ramrod straight, their bodies drenched in sweat but their eyes sharp, and the mockery he had prepared in his mind inexplicably slipped back down.
"Sir Otto, this place is much cleaner than I expected."
Raymond unbuttoned his collar, slumped onto the wooden stool, and fanned himself with a silk handkerchief.
"Laws produce strength, and strength sustains life. My lord, this kind of weather is torture for those who live in comfort, but a test for those who want to take root in the mud."
Otto personally served Raymond a bowl of light ale, which had been steeped in well water.
Raymond downed his drink in one gulp, let out a long sigh, but his face remained gloomy.
"A test? Ha. The test the old marquis gave me was torture."
He lowered his voice, his tone revealing a deep-seated hostility.
"Last week, because of the lost sheep, my brothers who guard the bridge publicly mocked me at the dinner party, calling me the cheapest watchdog. The old marquis even hinted that if I couldn't increase the profits on this border, he would send me to guard the southernmost muddy swamp."
Otto looked at him, his grey-blue eyes devoid of sympathy, only calculation.
"So, you need a surprise. Something that will shut the Marquis of Walder up and make your brothers jealous."
Raymond squinted.
"You mean these vagrants who only know how to poke with sticks?"
No. I'm talking about power.
Otto stepped back and suddenly drew an arc in the air with his right hand.
"Iron Oath Corps—Ready!"
The five hunters moved instantly.
Inside the sweltering longhouse, their movements were swift and efficient. The wooden shields clashed together neatly, producing a dull thud.
"push!"
"prick!"
The five wooden poles shot forward almost simultaneously, their tips leaving five ghastly white streaks in the afternoon sunlight. The precise, almost rigid rhythm, carrying a chilling, bell-like intensity, sent shivers down Raymond's spine.
Raymond had seen knights jousting and conscripts fighting in groups.
But he had never seen a playing style that used discipline to stitch several people together as a whole.
A picture flashed through his mind: if these dozens of men, armed with spears, pushed forward shoulder to shoulder like a wall, his arrogant brothers would crush their warhorses under the weight of the spears as they led the charge.
"You want to teach me this?"
Raymond's breathing became rapid.
"Not just craftsmanship, sir. I will forge for you an elite force rarely seen throughout the entire Riverlands."
Otto leaned forward, his voice low.
"Nominally, this Iron Oath Regiment is under your direct protection; it is your private training ground on the border. You claim the credit for it, while I am merely the one who sharpens your blade."
Raymond's greed began to override his reason.
If he could possess a small but well-trained border force that was credited to him on paper, his position within the Frey family would change.
"What's the price? Someone like you won't put in effort for nothing."
"I don't want gold coins from you."
Otto stretched out his fingers and broke them apart one by one.
"I need you to use your authority over the granaries and armories on the border of the Twins to allocate a batch of damaged and unusable parts."
"First, thirty sets of old leather armor. No need for new ones, even cracked or moldy ones will do; I can fix them myself. Second, twenty heavy old crossbows. I know the Marquis is currently buying new ones from Mil, and those old crossbows are just gathering dust in a corner. Third, pig iron, even scrap iron is fine. Finally, a minimum amount of aged military rations to sustain fifty men for a year."
Raymond's eye twitched.
These items could indeed be reported as losses in the Twins' ledgers, but the amount still alarmed him.
"You want to recruit fifty people?"
"The upper reaches of the Blue Fork River are vast, sir. If you want your brothers to no longer dare to underestimate this place, I'll need a good number of teeth."
Otto stared into his eyes.
"This is an investment. I'll risk my life, and you'll provide the garbage that was already rotting. In the end, you'll gain an irreplaceable frontier achievement in the eyes of Marquis Walder."
Raymond stared intently at Otto.
The scorching summer sun pierced through the straw curtains, illuminating Otto's young, calm, and rugged face. He suddenly realized that he was making a deal with a behemoth that was not yet fully grown.
But he had no other choice.
"it is good."
Raymond gritted his teeth and slammed his hand heavily on the wooden table.
"I can give you fifteen sets of leather armor, five heavy crossbows, and three thousand pounds of aged oats first. As for pig iron, I will allocate two hundred pounds from my personal share under the pretext of repairing the breakwater. But listen carefully, Hohenzollern."
He suddenly stood up, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and moved closer to Otto.
"I'll come back to inspect in two months. If your men can't harvest my targets like wheat, I'll personally cut off your head."
"The contract is fulfilled."
Otto reached out and grasped Raymond's sweaty hands.
"Hohenzollern's promise is as hard as steel."
After Raymond led his cavalry away, the sound of hooves gradually faded into the depths of the forest.
Pollifer finally collapsed to the ground, sweat pouring down his forehead from exhaustion.
"My lord... you've gone mad. Using the Frey family's resources to support your own army—if this gets out, there will be nowhere for us to hide in the entire Riverlands."
"The long summer has gone on for too long, Pollifer. Everyone is enjoying the comfort, everyone is becoming dull."
Otto walked over to Cole's blacksmith shop.
The four-hundred-pound anvil gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and the one-eyed blacksmith rubbed his hands excitedly, awaiting the arrival of the two-hundred-pound pig iron.
"Greed and suspicion are the Freys' weaknesses, and also our best fodder."
Otto turned to look at his companions in the longhouse, their spines ramrod straight.
"As for the fifty men, Pollifer, go and take stock of the remaining food. Starting tomorrow, you will take two hunters downstream. Go to the camps that were driven out because of the fever, to the young men whose families have all died and whose eyes are filled only with hatred and strength. Tell them that there is clean water, rationed bread, and order here."
Otto reached out and felt the suffocating breeze of a long summer afternoon.
"Since Raymond is willing to provide meals, we should show him just how big Hohenzollern's appetite really is."
The cicadas' chirping during the long summer became unusually jarring at this moment.
The first expansion of the Hohenzollern territory was officially initiated amidst the sweat and fire of these fifteen men.