Chapter Twenty-Two: The Pocket-Sized Wooden Fort

In the dense forest of the valley, beside the small fenced courtyard, a large expanse of open ground was now occupied by a cabin sixty feet long, twenty feet wide, and eight feet high, constructed from logs and thatch. Inside, two rows of sleeping mats covered in thick hay lined the space, separated by a six-foot-wide aisle. At the far end of the aisle, old Cooper and Scott were discussing something in front of a large clay fireplace.

"Old Steward, do you think this clay fireplace will hold up against the fire? It’ll probably crack in a few days," Scott asked.

"I’ve mixed river sand and hay into the clay. After curing it with a low flame, it won't crack so easily. Even if it does, we can just patch it with another layer of clay. I estimate the Master and the others should be returning soon, and I must finish this shelter before they arrive," Cooper replied, throwing another piece of wood into the fireplace.

"A shelter? Old Steward, if you call this a shelter, then those actual shacks would have to be called pigsties." Scott truly admired the old man's capability; in just over twenty days, he had built a sturdy, substantial log cabin.

Just then, Camille skipped into the cabin and spoke to the two men crouching by the fireplace: "Grandpa Steward, Father, lunch is ready. Mother told me to come and call you."

"Camille, go tell your mother we’re coming right away," Scott said, gently pinching her nose.

Scott helped Cooper up, whose legs were numb from crouching too long. "Old Steward, the Master and the others have been gone for over thirty days, haven't they? It’s truly worrying."

Cooper brushed the wood shavings from his hands and smiled at Scott. "Are you worried about your son? Don't worry. Even though the Master is young, he is very capable. Ron will be fine with him."

With that, they left the cabin and headed toward the small shed beside Scott’s house.

At the edge of the dense forest north of the valley cabin, the western spurs of the Bore Mountains and the eastern spurs of the Lamer Mountains converged, forming a mile-wide forest pass. To the south of the pass lay the dense forest, and to the north, the vast wilderness.

Today, the forest pass welcomed its most bustling day in hundreds of years. A large group of refugees and several armed guards had come to a halt here.

"My lord, is this our settlement?" Kazak asked, his face full of disbelief.

"Any further in and it’s just forest, but there’s no land to be tilled in this wilderness outside!" Lawrence kicked the barren ground, which was so infertile that even weeds struggled to grow.

The refugees behind them also stepped forward, staring blankly at the dense forest ahead, unsure of what to say.

Art addressed the group beside him, "Everyone, rest where you are."

"Bath, take some men to unload all the supplies from the wagons. Hide the wagons in the forest and remember to cover them with branches and hay. We’ll be entering the forest shortly."

"Ron, take my horse back to the valley cabin. Tell the old steward we have returned and to prepare."

Art issued orders to those around him one after another.

After a short rest, Art stepped onto a raised mound and spoke loudly to the refugees sitting on the ground: "Cross this dense forest, travel south for half a day, and a brand-new life awaits you there."

He jumped off the mound and walked over to his men.

"I will lead the way at the front of the column."

"Oldo, you are still weak. Ride the blue mule behind me."

"Lawrence, find some sturdy men to carry the grain and farm implements. Keep the other refugees in the middle."

"Bath and Kazak, bring up the rear." After arranging everyone’s tasks, Art began to direct the refugees into the forest.

...

The afternoon sun pierced through the dense jungle, torn by the branches of spruce and red pine into beams of light that cast upon the unmelted snow in the woods.

Art walked along feeling quite comfortable, followed by a long procession of people, all of them filled with both anticipation and unease about the destination.

The party trekked through the dense forest for the better part of the afternoon. As they rounded a low hill, a flat, open area appeared before them. In the clearing, four thatched-roof log cabins were arranged from north to south. The northernmost one was a courtyard enclosed by sharp birch stakes, containing two cabins of varying sizes, a stable, a sheepfold, and a pigsty, resembling a miniature wooden fortress. Against the south wall of the yard, a fifteen-foot-square cabin had been built using the fence as its north wall. About sixty feet south of that stood a long, low-roofed cabin, and to its northeast was a makeshift kitchen supported by several poles, featuring a stone stove. The entire flat area was surrounded by a waist-high fence made of scrap wood. On the gentle slope in front of the outer fence, winter vegetables like cabbage, radishes, and peas were planted. At the bottom of the slope flowed a trickling stream, and further south along the stream lay a vast wheat field...

Under the sunset, it glowed with a brilliant golden light, and everything appeared so quiet and peaceful.

Old Cooper and Scott’s family were waiting at the wooden gate of the outer fence to welcome the returning party.

The thirty-some people stood by the hill, staring blankly at everything before them.

Oldo had assumed that the "cabin in the forest" Art spoke of was merely a low, dilapidated hunter’s shack. He sat on the back of his mule, his mouth agape, staring in silence for a long time. Only after a while did he turn to ask Art: "My lord... is this... is this your territory? Are you a knight-lord?"

Art was also stunned. When he left, Scott’s cabin was only half-finished, but now it had transformed into a miniature wooden fortress village. "Oldo, this is my first time seeing it too."

"Ah???"

"Let’s go, let's get home first," Art said, walking toward it first.

...

As night fell, the small cabin settlement in the valley was filled with smoke and fire. A large bonfire was lit in the open space in front of the low cabin. The refugees sat around the fire, smelling the waves of meat and wheat fragrance drifting from the kitchen. Children watched the bubbling stew in the copper pot, while the adults spoke of their joy and happiness.

They were all wanderers who had lost their homes, and today, they had found the feeling of home once more.

Inside the private log cabin, Art was carefully wiping his chainmail on his lap. Cooper sat on a low stool, reporting on the situation over the past period: "...Ten days ago, Scott and I surveyed the land. We have already marked out several plots suitable for farming. Master, that is the situation with the household. Additionally, all the refugees have been settled into the new cabins. They have hay mats and fireplaces, so there’s no need to worry about them suffering from the cold. I gave up my room to Oldo and his two companions so they wouldn't have to crowd in with the other refugees."

"As for food, I had Scott bring out all our remaining smoked meat. We made a large pot of meat stew with onions and cabbage. Tonight, every refugee can have a large bowl of stew and a small piece of bread; there is plenty of wheat porridge."

Art nodded repeatedly. "Cooper, you have been very thorough. Listen, in a while, call Oldo and his two men, Ron, Lawrence, and those refugee guards to this room. Then ask Emma to send us some food separately; I want to treat them well. You and Scott, please work hard to look after the refugees outside."

"Very well, Master, I will go make the arrangements."

"By the way, there is one more thing you must arrange. It’s too late today, but first thing tomorrow morning, take the new refugees to the stream to bathe. Then boil water and scald their clothes and bedding. I do not want them bringing disease here."

"Master, it is so cold out, I fear no one will be willing to bathe in the stream..."

"That is not my concern. If they find the stream too cold, they can boil water to bathe themselves. In any case, everyone must wash clean, including you and your men, Oldo..."

Art did not want this group of refugees to bring a widespread disease to this place.

...

The night was already deep, but the joyful atmosphere continued. Around the massive bonfire, the well-fed refugees gathered together, singing and dancing.

In the fenced cabin, Art was clinking glasses with everyone. The large jar of fruit wine, brewed by Emma and spiked with strong ale, was nearly empty, and everyone was slightly tipsy.

Oldo had had a good sleep in Cooper’s small cabin that afternoon and was now in high spirits. He raised his wine cup, let out a hiccup, and said to Lawrence sitting beside him, "Brother Lawrence, why don't you join the Master’s patrol? You showed great courage that day; the Master would surely be willing to recruit you."

The others stopped their glasses and looked at Lawrence.

Lawrence glanced at the people gathered around and fixed his gaze on Art. "My lord, I fear I must disappoint everyone. Like the others, I only took up arms so that my wife and children would not be raided by bandits. Compared to long swords and short spears, we prefer farm tools and plowshares."

"But if one day the Master needs me, I will surely put down the iron plow and offer my life." Lawrence spoke with great sincerity.

Art raised his glass to Lawrence and the other refugee guards. "Thank you all for stepping forward. You are all upright men, and in the future, you will become the finest farmers."

Everyone raised their glasses and drained the fruit wine.

The moon had dipped to the treetops, and the banquet in the nameless valley was drawing to a close. Art led Oldo and the others out of the cabin fence to the open space in front of the low house.

"My lord~"

"Master~"

The refugees rose one after another and bowed deeply to Art. Since the day war broke out in their homeland, they had been wandering in foreign lands for too long, struggling for their last breath like stray dogs. They felt a heartfelt love and gratitude toward this patrol officer who had brought them to this paradise.

Art walked into the middle of the crowd, stood by the bonfire, scanned each person, and said loudly: "Everyone, from today on, you are home! You are no longer homeless refugees. You can live in this wooden fortress for generations, and you shall be the free people of this valley."

Art paused for a moment, pointed to the south, and added, "Beyond this valley to the south, there is a vast expanse of fertile land waiting for you to till, to sow, and to harvest. As long as you work hard and live honestly, I will ensure that your lives are stable and you will never have to worry about food or clothing."

A cheer erupted from the crowd; their greatest desire was a stable life and fertile land.

"Tomorrow, everyone continue to rest for another day. My steward, Cooper, will arrange everything else for you."

A chorus of assent rose from the crowd.