Michael Stackpole - Of Limited Loyalty

There were things about him, however, that just stuck in Nathaniel’s craw. One was how he addressed all of them by their last names, save for Count von Metternin and Kamiskwa. Those two he treated with a certain amount of deference, but he still spoke down to them. And he treated Hodge Dunsby as his own personal servant. Hodge didn’t seem to mind very much, his having been a soldier in the Queen’s Army until not long ago, but it didn’t sit right with Nathaniel.

Still, if Hodge had no complaints, Nathaniel wasn’t going to step in for him. Hodge had been in Mystria long enough to know that he could speak his mind. Nathaniel and the others would back him in that. Nathaniel figured that until Hodge decided to change his family name to something more Mystrian perhaps that message hadn’t quite sunk fully in. Still, he was willing to bet Hodge would take a stand before the journey was up.

The expedition had worked its way west to Grand Falls, then started an overland trek toward the southwest. The journey took them across countless small lakes and small rivers, all part of the watershed of the Westridge Mountains. The mountains began roughly where the Bounty and Richlan Colony borders met at the western edge of their grants, and extended off to the southwest and northwest. They cut the coast off from the Misaawa River valley, which, if Tharyngian and Shedashee tales were correct, roughly split the continent in half.

Within the first two days they’d left most Colonial settlements behind. Rathfield had referred to it as “abandoning civilization.” Nathaniel and Kamiskwa had exchanged glances, since the Shedashee had nations and tribes all throughout the land. Nathaniel had found them much more civilized than most Mystrians, and figured he might make that point to Rathfield. Then he figured that Rathfield wasn’t ever going to understand, so he resolved to hold his tongue.

As they traveled toward the mountains and into Richlan, they came across scattered settlements in small valleys with good water and fields. The people generally had constructed a big log blockhouse in the center, with a town green that they jointly worked. Barns had been raised and flocks of sheep wandered over hillsides. The individual homes appeared small, but clustered in small groups.

Plentiful was such a town and fairly new. At the last town, Wisdom, they’d been encouraged to bypass Plentiful since the people there had split from Wisdom over doctrinal issues a decade earlier. While the people of Wisdom had been full of forgiveness for their former colleagues and family members, the word “wicked” got thrown around a lot more than made Nathaniel comfortable.

The expedition entered the small valley on foot, having abandoned canoes on the shores of the last lake. The Snake River, which eventually caught up with King’s River to the east and flowed to the sea at Kingstown, ran too shallow in the foothills to be navigable. The people of Plentiful found it a convenient source of fresh water and had built closely on both sides of it. They’d even raised a couple of footbridges, though most folks just happily splashed through it at low points.

Nathaniel and the others had walked a day and a half in, and brought with them a ten-point buck, which Rathfield had shot and insisted on carrying after basic field dressing-as opposed to butchering it and letting each man carry a piece. Nathaniel figured that was the man trying to show how strong he was. The Mystrian would have been more impressed if the load had been shared out, since that was the smarter way to travel.

A man in the valley rang the alarm bell in front of the blockhouse when they came out of the woods, but without the enthusiasm of someone reporting real danger. A large man wearing a white shirt, black woolen pants, and a tall, round-brimmed hat with a buckled hatband emerged from the blockhouse and headed toward them, cutting around the green. Nathaniel stayed on the road and raised his right hand, keeping it away from his rifle’s firestone, in a sign of peace.

The man bowed and spread open hands. “God bless you and welcome you to Plentiful, friends. I am the Shepherd, Arise Faith.”

Makepeace Bone stepped up. “I am your servant, Makepeace Bone. My companions and I would welcome comfort and counsel, as the Good Book dictates.”

Faith’s blossoming smile set Nathaniel’s stomach at ease. “Please, friends, know you are welcome. It is fortunate you arrived when you did, for the Sabbath begins at sunset, and we would have been forbidden even greeting you until Monday dawn.”

Nathaniel nodded. “We’re truly grateful for your welcoming, Shepherd Faith. I’m Nathaniel Woods. This here is Kamiskwa of the Altashee. Count von Metternin is from Kesse-Saxeburg only four years back. That’s Hodge Dunsby and the man with the deer is Colonel Rathfield. The Queen done sent him. And that there is Captain Owen Strake, hero of Anvil Lake.”

Faith nodded to each man in turn, but his face betrayed zero recognition. He covered himself well, but Nathaniel found him as easy to read as fresh tracks in stiff mud. While Faith knew there was a Queen, he didn’t know a place called Kesse-Saxeburg existed. Nathaniel caught a flicker that suggested he’d heard of Anvil Lake, but whatever he knew didn’t have Owen’s name attached to it.

Plentiful’s Shepherd pointed toward the blockhouse. “You will be quite welcome to stay in our Spiritual Hall, but you must understand that no profane or lascivious behavior will be tolerated. There is no hard liquor allowed. We will have services, and you are welcome to attend, and then we shall have our communal meal after that. You are welcome to share, though this early in the year the fare can be somewhat meager.”

Rathfield stepped up and dumped the buck at Faith’s feet. “Please, Goodman, accept this meat as a gift from Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Margaret. She wishes the best for all of her subjects.”

Faith looked down, and then back up. “Are you certain, Colonel? I would not have thought the Queen…”

Rathfield smiled. “My dear sir, by my reckoning, Plentiful is still within the bounds of Richlan, which marks you as loyal subjects of the Crown. If she cannot show her beneficence here, at the very edges of the empire God has granted her, to God’s most faithful servants, what kind of a ruler would she be?”

“I see. This is most unexpected but most welcome.” He clasped his hands together. “Please, friends, I will see to your accommodation and get people to prepare your gift. Follow me.”

Shepherd Faith led them to the blockhouse, which had been solidly built of logs. Longer than it was wide, it rose to two stories, with a loft that extended halfway in from the door. Bark had been skinned from the interior, making the room appear lighter and larger than it might have otherwise. The far end had a small pulpit carved from a single log. Trestle tables and benches filled the main floor, but people had already begun to break most of the tables down and arrange the benches for the coming service.

Faith took them up the steps to the loft, which clearly served as community storage during the winter. A few sacks of grain remained, along with a collection of items from spinning wheels to scythes that required repair or sharpening.

“Please, friends, make yourselves at home.”

Nathaniel smiled. “Already feel at home, but I reckon you can do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Point me to an ax and a pile of wood that needs splitting. I hain’t worked an ax good in a while, and I am sadly feeling the need of that exercise.”

“Of course. Around back is our shed. You can chop all you want until sundown.”

“Much obliged.”

Nathaniel waited for Shepherd Faith to descend from the loft before he turned to Colonel Rathfield. “Mighty nice of you just to up and give them your deer.”