18 – Lenience

Only when we reached the door leading out towards the barracks did I realize my mistake.

I would have to face my greatest enemy to cross the distance – going outside.

A short, sheepish excursion to fetch one of the parasols later, we were back at the door. At least I’d remembered to wear long, light-blocking clothes. I’d have to hope it would be enough.

The manor’s entrance – and the barracks and servant quarters lining the road leading up from the grounds’ gate – faced west, so the sun was still blocked by the manor behind us as we stepped outside. It hadn’t risen very high yet, but that would soon change.

If I spent too long on the interrogations, getting back to the manor proper would suck. I wasn’t particularly keen on spending the rest of the day stuck in the barracks either, so a modicum of haste was called for.

When my squinted eyes had adjusted as best they could to the brightening outside, I realized my worry had been a little premature.

Just like the tower to the north, there were two covered walkways leading away from the manor’s western side. As was to be expected, one led to the barracks, south of the central road, while the other hugged the road’s north until it reached the servants’ quarters.

These walkways didn’t have walls, their roofs held up by regular pillars instead. So they wouldn’t be all that helpful for most of the day, especially the late morning and afternoon respectively. But over noon, when the sun stood high in the sky, the provided shade would be highly useful to me.

Mia and I walked along the southern of the paths. The image of the road leading from the gate to the manor’s entrance, flanked by these walkways, was surprisingly fancy. If I didn’t know these were installed only after Kalin moved here, I’d almost think it was an intentional architectural feature meant for a fancy noble residence.

The cared-for rows of low hedges sandwiched between the paths and road truly belied the abysmal state of the rest of the garden. With mild interest I noted these were actually the same bushes as under my window, just that here the faded flowers had been plucked and the branches trimmed into shape. The difference between what can be seen from the outside and what is hidden from view, eh?

To our left, the view opened toward the guard training field. A surprising number of men were already up and about, doing various exercises or mild sparring.

Around forty men were employed as guards under Kalin, a number at once large and small.

Large in the sense that this manor really didn’t need that many guards. Kalin likewise hadn’t ever really used these forces for anything.

Small because these were all the military forces available. A lot for this manor, but not nearly a reasonable amount for the town of a few hundred or low thousand inhabitants around half a kilometer away down the hill.

Aside from civilian militia or emergency conscripts, forty men wasn’t a lot to handle both security at the manor and all the various tasks of town guards at the same time.

From what I was aware of, the town didn’t have a big crime problem, so the need for guards wasn’t intense. Still, someone needed to collect taxes, keep what crime did happen under control, deal with travelers and ensure general safety. Not to mention the winters, when the forest became much less friendly, its inhabitants far too often daring to leave the security provided by the shaded canopies. What livestock remained was as much on the menu as the citizens themselves.

All these were things Kalin hadn’t cared much for, aside from his resentment at the lack of prestige implied by the lack of military might. In other words, problems that now fell to me to fix. If I didn’t want to leave things as they were. Which I didn’t. It really didn’t endear myself to people if I let them or their neighbors get eaten by wild beasts. Or if untrained farmers or woodcutters were forced to act as militia to cover for my failure to prepare.

Putting these matters aside for now, I entered the barracks. The building didn’t house all forty of the soldiers, there was a smaller guard house in the town that was home to about ten to fifteen at a time. Still, over twenty men lived here, complete with communal sleeping rooms and a mess hall. Not the most luxurious of lodgings.

A place Kalin normally avoided like the plague. Aside from snobbishness, it was that good old inferiority he felt when seeing fit, healthy people. Well, that and his general aversion to interacting with others in general.

It wasn’t unusual though for him to go interrogate any prisoners kept here, in the underground prison cells. He did always like making himself feel big by making others miserable.

We passed by silently, guided to our destination by a pair of guards. Through several heavy doors and down the stairs. Another door led us into a stone corridor, lined with more doors. Against my expectations, the cells here didn’t have bars at the front, instead being full rooms with only a small barred window in the door to provide light inside. Even that could be closed, leaving the prisoners in near total darkness.

The place reeked. I had to stop breathing through my nose at all, to escape the accumulated smell of human waste mixed with rust, mold and hints of old blood. Mia covered the bottom half of her face with her sleeve, coughing.

“It’s quite unpleasant, I agree my lord. Not that the poor sods that end up here deserve much better, I reckon.” I turned to the guard that’d spoken, a short man with graying hair and a constant frown set on his face by undoubtedly long years wearing that exact expression.

“To the left here’s a room we usually use for interrogatin’. No doubt you’re familiar with it, lord. If you want, we can bring the prisoners there. Else, they’re in those cells there.” The man gestured to four cells.

Indeed, each of the prisoners were in their very own cells. Truly the height of luxury, with a wooden board piled with straw and a bucket for furnishings. Not to mention the manacles hanging off the walls, in case it felt too homely.

I opened the door to the interrogation room. Much as I got from Kalin’s memories, this was for the more ‘active’ parts of interrogation. In other words, torture. Various tools, chains, racks, even an unlit coal brazier. Not quite my cup of tea. I suppressed a shudder when the view brought some of the worse memories into focus.

Trying to take my mind of it, I pointed to the opposite door, to the right of the stairs.

“What’s that room? If it’s a cell, why didn’t you put anyone in there?” It was the closest to the stairs after all.

“Oh, I almost forgot that’n was there. Uh, it’s a room for talkin’, I think.”

Curious by what he meant, I opened the door. It wasn’t locked, so the reinforced door swung open easily.

Inside, a table and three chairs, two on the closer side and one on the far.

Now this is more along the lines of the interrogation room I was looking for.

“This will do. Bring that man here, the one who didn’t try to stab me.”

Though appearing a little surprised, the pair nonetheless complied.

The guard was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Two pairs of shackles bound him, one his arms and the other his legs. He did look a bit more disheveled, but otherwise unharmed. When he saw me on entering the room, his eyes widened.

After the man was forced down into the lone chair and I managed to wave the other two guards out, I sat down as well.

Almost immediately, the prisoner dropped to the ground from his chair, falling to his knees. He went so far as to fully prostrate himself before me.

“L-Lord Steelheart! Please, I beg of you, I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem correct, but please spare my family. They don’t have anything to do with whatever is happening, they’re innocent! Please!”

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I took a deep breath. I already knew how things often worked in this world, especially when a noble was directly endangered like I was.

“Sit down,” I commanded. The man nearly tripped over his chains in his haste to comply. His eyes were pleading.

“What is your name?”

“Anders, Lord Steelheart.”

“Tell me, Anders, do you drink?”

“What? Oh, err, in moderation, my lord. And never on the job of course.”

“That’s good to hear. Mia, if you would, I’m feeling a little thirsty.”

With a roll of her eyes that Anders couldn’t see, Mia opened the cloth cover of the basket she was carrying, retrieving a bottle of wine and two cups from within. It was a little awkward, since she was also carrying my folded-up parasol, but she managed with practiced grace.

Picking up one of the two filled cups, I brought it to my lips. The scent overpowered the pervasive stench of the prison, making me smile. I took a sip.

“Drink,” I told the increasingly confused Anders. He did, a momentary smile flashing over his face before his worried confusion reasserted itself.

“Did they feed you here?”

“No, Lord Steelheart. Not that I’m complaining, of course!”

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Anyway. Do you know what you did wrong, Anders?” I fixed the man in a glare.