Chapter 12: New Village Chief and Tax Increase.
The caravan set up camp on the rocky riverbank east of the village. Under garrison guidance, nearly a hundred weary, anxious teens—boys and girls from Degbrun’s villages—clambered down from wagons.
They were here for the Lantern Bearer trial at Nightdew Valley’s fog barrier, organized by officials and church.
By cruel odds— one Lantern per three to four hundred candidates—likely none would succeed. Yet year after year, rural seventeen-year-olds chased slim hope down this thorned, deadly path.
For wealthy town families, the honors weren’t worth the failure risk or perilous Black Domain life.
For poor village kids, it was their only shot at changing fate—for themselves, their families. Rural youth dominated the trials.
Soon, out-of-town teens fixed stares on the black-haired, black-eyed boy at the gate. Shock, envy, curiosity swirled in their eyes.
“Holy Lord bless, brave and lucky lad. Where’s your chief?”
A tall middle-aged man—fine leather armor under costly wool cloak—strode to Cary.
He bent slightly, hands on knees, warm smile on the boy’s striking black hair. “If I’m right, you’re the ‘god-blessed’ one Priest Finn mentions?”
An aura like Renat’s but sharper hit Cary. He looked up, tense, hesitated, then muttered, “Sorry, sir… I don’t know who the chief is now…”
Cary’s awkward reply sparked laughter among the outsiders. Realizing the setting, they muffled giggles, shoulders shaking.
“I am Gerhard Eisenhart, Court Knight of Hildemark, House Kohler retainer, Degbrun Governor!” The man straightened, voice booming. “Now, who tells me where the chief is?”
His hawk-like gaze swept villagers. Eyes met shrank back in fear.
“Holy Lord bless, welcome, Lord Knight.”
A clear, steady childlike voice. Renat parted the crowd, faced Gerhard with poise, curtsied lightly. “I’m the chief, Renat.”
A third-tier Lantern Bearer, retired or not, matched any noble knight.
“You’re the retired Linwhisperer, Renat?”
Gerhard blinked, then grew solemn. He took her small hand, kissed the back properly. “Didn’t expect… you as chief.”
“You chose to serve House Kohler too.”
Renat’s eyes flicked his palm—a faded Lantern mark. Her lips curved knowingly.
“You’re freer than me, retiring here with a destined black-haired son.”
Gerhard laughed heartily, self-mocking. “Me? Just pipe dreams, moldering in an office.”
Nearing fifty, well-fed but still rugged from his free Lantern days. Facing her edge, he warmed further.
“Doru, food and hot water.” Renat turned to the militia captain. “Holy Lord have mercy—these kids traveled half a day. They’re starving.”
At her order, villagers relaxed, scattered to tasks.
“I’m surprised—why hold the trial here, in hard-to-reach Iceberry?”
Renat faced Gerhard, brow furrowed, face mature beyond years. “We’re not rich. A week feeding and housing so many… it’s a heavy burden.”
“Hah, because of your lucky black-haired boy!”
Gerhard grinned, glancing at Cary, proud. “Hope he brings Degbrun luck. Money’s no issue—we’ve planned. Iceberry won’t lose.”
He tossed a small deerskin pouch to Renat. “Six thousand crowns. More than enough.”
Renat opened it. Fifteen heavy gold coins gleamed—Gustav’s stern profile clear. Even with rising grain prices, six thousand bought over six thousand kilograms of rye.
She pocketed it, inhaled, eyed another robed official. “For the trial, why bring Degbrun’s tax officer? Our land survey ended last month.”
“Lady Renat, a hard truth…”
Gerhard’s smile faded, bitter. “From this year, twenty extra crowns per hectare—‘Black Tide War Tax’ for the seventh Tide reserves.”
Renat’s head snapped up, face darkening. “Five years early? Law allows two years max, ten crowns!”
“No, Renat, understand—Hildemark faces hard years!”
Gerhard’s voice hardened. “We guard over four hundred kilometers of lead wall. When the Tide hits, Lanterns’ value skyrockets! Every grain, every crown is survival!”
His words sank Renat’s heart. After a pause: “Hildemark, House Kohler… no family Lanterns left?”
“First ask why Miss Astrid now heads the house.”
Gerhard eyed her meaningfully, shook head, walked to camp.
Miss Astrid in charge… Old Count really met foul play, as Merchant Matt said?
Renat recalled last month’s sabotaged wall repair—subwomen using controlled “corruptsilver,” tied to the mad Eternal Night cult.
Those heretics collapsed the Empire Wall a century ago, dooming the realm.
Renat sighed heavily, turned home. Her peripheral caught camp figures.
“Mom, are they Lantern Bearers?” Cary, trailing silently, noticed too.
“Likely Gerhard’s hires to guard the trial.” Renat’s gaze slid away, voice wary. “Cary, stay clear of them.”
She grabbed his hand, pulled him village-ward, fleeing some unseen threat.
Far off, a tall, scarred youth turned slowly.
Cold, probing eyes pierced the crowd, locking on the hurrying mother and son.