The Elder Lands

Lucan strode into the study after his father. Thomas, their steward, was already waiting for them. He held a few scrolled parchments in his hands and was busy arranging them with the ones on the table beside the map.

Sir Golan walked around the table to his chair but didn’t sit down. He gestured for Lucan to join him and Lucan complied.

The map spread on the table was that of the small piece of land the King had bestowed upon his father. This was what he was expected to inherit someday, though the King could take it away if Lucan wasn’t up to standard as a knight. Unlike a Lord’s fief, theirs came with conditions that must be met. His father’s constant talk of duty and responsibility along with the burden of continuing upon his success had always been a source of anxiety for Lucan.

It didn’t help that he knew things could change when the heir took the throne. It was no secret that the King was aging well beyond an ordinary man’s years. And an heir could decide to invest more effort in the isolated Royal territories in the southeast, part of which was this fief and several others.

Thomas spread open some of the scrolled parchments, which Lucan realized were the deeds to the land and its borders.

Lucan scrutinized the map and tried to match it to what he’d seen since he’d been a child. The stream-cum-river cut from the northwest of the map to the southeast. Lucan knew from his favorite field of reading, history, that this had, in fact, been a canal dug by the old Empire from the Elder Lake to facilitate farming and trade. The latter purpose was no longer viable as sediment precipitated along the body of water, forming mud islands and narrowing the canal by lining its sides.

Before the canal could get far from the northwest of the map, it split into a fork, one branch of which continued on its merry way down to the southeast, cutting between the motte-and-bailey and the farmland on its southwestern side. It then meandered on its path until it reached the eastern forest which it cradled into a crook before flowing off the map. The other branch spread from the main canal to the east cutting through the sparse northern forest, then rubbing against the northern hills and veering down to the southeast to cut into the eastern forest.

A road mirrored the main branch of the canal all the way to the southeast of the map, only branching once to lead south towards House Arden’s lands, cutting through the forested hills of the noble house known for producing wine. It was perhaps their most important product, though it was one of the worst Lucan had tasted. It wasn’t meant to be drunk in high society, however, but to be the cheapest in the markets. House Arden produced it in abundance, and it kept them afloat as they strived to protect the southern border.

Villages dotted the bank of the main branch of the canal opposite the rocky land their motte-and-bailey was built upon. The small fortress had been raised with packed earth, through the hard labor of hundreds of people. His father had picked a slightly depressed piece of land to raise it on, allowing them to connect it with the canal and let a natural moat form. A small outlet had been dug to displace the old water and the refuse that was sometimes thrown into the moat.

His father pointed at the western edge of the map, far from the canal and the road. “Our borders on this side end right before the forest, as is written here.” His hand moved to one of the parchments that Thomas had placed on the table. His father’s forefinger traced a line between their lands and the forest then continued to extend that line between their lands and the mountains south of the forest. “The stream that flows off the mountains leads to this lake.” He traced the stream to the large salt lake east of the forest.

Lucan knew that his father had been struggling with it for the past two years. He’d been trying to extract its salt to use and sell, which could provide them with a rich bounty. Unfortunately, the lake itself was a patch of lowland that was surrounded by highlands, so much that it had looked like a hole in the ground when Lucan had seen it the first time. Flattening a reasonable stretch of land around it to form salt pans would take an unreasonable amount of labor. Likewise, relying on firewood would be too steep of an expense, since they’d have to load the wood from the eastern forest. Lucan had once suggested extracting wood from the western forest, but his father had refused the idea as it could offend the King. Falling out of Royal favor for what could be construed as greed would be a tragedy, Lucan understood.

The southern forest belonged in its entirety to House Arden which had no reason to be generous with them. Though their interests had recently been hinged on the presence of the landed knights who’d been supporting their border duties. His father had left on two long campaigns when Lucan had been but a child.

He returned his attention to the map where his father had just finished explaining what he already knew about their borders with House Arden.

His father’s hand moved to the southeast of the map. “This road cuts through the lands of Sir Osmond Wolfe, Sir Emerson Ryder, and Sir Alfred Upton. You are familiar with them.”

Lucan nodded. They were, like his father, knights sworn to the King directly. Thankfully, their relationship was cordial. His father had led him on visits to their lands during his younger years. They had also visited their keep on occasion.

Next was the northeast. His father pointed beyond the northern branch of the canal and said, “In this direction is Sir Ward’s land. As you know, he’s not very welcoming.”

Lucan nodded again. The Ward lands were old, unlike theirs and their other neighboring knights. The current Sir Ward was of the fourth generation to hold the land. They had been landed when the Kingdom in the east had shattered and before the formation of the Union which now ruled over half of its former lands. They took their border duties seriously even in the presence of the much more stable Union, and they considered the newly landed knights lesser in station. The one time Lucan had visited the lands of the main House Zesh, the sitting Lord Zesh had mentioned that the Wards might be elevated to Lords soon.

His father moved on to the north next. “As you know, beyond the forest is the Royal High Road, and a strip of land that belongs to the King.”

Lucan noted the parchment that Thomas spread open as his father spoke. “But this here doesn’t specify whether the forest is off-limits for us, father.”

“Indeed,” his father said. “Though there isn’t much benefit to it. The land is too dangerous for logging, let alone anything else, as you well know.” He stared at him.

Lucan blushed and avoided his father’s eyes. Three years ago, he’d broken his arm on his first and only wild venture into the wild alone. He was, embarrassingly, looking for an adventure, one like those annotated in some dubious historical texts. He’d ended up tumbling down the forested incline of the canal’s offshoot branch. That’s when he’d learned that the forested ground north of them was extremely uneven and terribly dangerous even if there were no abhorrent beasts inhabiting it.

“We must speak of what’s expected of you now,” his father said. “If you are to carry my torch.” He picked one of the larger parchments on the table and spread it open.

Lucan prepared himself for another lecture on duty and responsibility.