Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 139

Chapter 139: Muddy waters – The pirates on the Bay (II)
It took Henry and his troops half an hour to finally arrive at Frostwave Bay, the snow slowly covering the tracks of the horses and people.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!!” – A cry pierced the air, halting their advance. A wavy-haired man stood before them, behind him were hundreds if not thousands of armed villagers filling the streets of the city, like ants.

They had never encountered anyone from the king’s retinue aside from the General and his soldiers, and lacking any identifiable insignia, recognition was almost impossible. Henry hadn’t prepared any banners with the Royal symbol to travel East, a tactic to travel more silently through this region. In the end, he just didn’t wish to be bothered in every corner, mainly by merchants.

“Seems they’ve inherited the bandits’ ways” – Henry mused, his gaze flickering with a crafting light – “Their militia knowledge might prove useful, not only their sailing techniques.”

In response to the man’s demand, Leier tapped her horse’s flank, her unsheathed sword glinting as the silver sea surrounding the bay – “Such insolence, bearing weapons in the presence of the king!” – she billowed in anger, her eyes fixed on the wavy-haired man.

“Shall we execute you all for royal treason?” – Her words seemed to cast a shadow over the assembled crowd, sending a shiver down their spines – “Bow your heads!” – Leier commanded, her steed pawing the ground, ready to charge and begin a bloodshed. The cavalry followed suit, poised for action.

Fear flashed in the wavy-haired man’s eyes as he tightened his grip on his axe, fighting the urge to run away and drop his weapon – “I am Svart Bolge” – he stammered – “Acting chief under General Iosif’s orders. We’re loyal to the throne, but we must verify your identity first. It was an order from the General himself before departing.”

Leier breathed deeply trying to contain her anger. She looked at Henry, but the king merely responded with a subtle gesture, giving her the power to decide – “You have five minutes!” – she announced firmly, her voice carrying authority – “Find a solution, or clear the path.” – This was her way of showing her respect to General Iosif, the man now confined to a medical bed in the capital, refusing to open his mouth and receive visits.

Henry observed Leier with interest – “She doesn’t have all qualities of a leader” – he thought, noticing her lack of patience. Leaders must have an unshakable mentality and must remain calm at all situations, even more so when dealing with those under them. They couldn’t lose their hearts.

“The king is here himself! His royal bloodline traces back to our founder, and still you ask for proof?” – Leier thought, her grip on the reins and sword tightening. She wished to teach them a lesson, but held back for now.

The man scrambled for a solution, his mind racing – “Hurry, call for the twelve soldiers!”- he ordered, turning to the scout in a furred white bear clothes, the one that spotted the king’s entourage on the White Merchant Road. The white attire allowed her to hide herself in the snowy forest.

Soon, twelve soldiers emerged, their eyes locking onto the king’s entourage. In an instant, they knelt in reverence – “We welcome the king!” – they declared in unison, when their eyes landed on the black-haired man.

Their encounters with the king were few and far between, often limited to training sessions alongside General Luther. Under him, they learned how to form battle formations and fight together as one. However, it was the king’s distinctive gray eyes that truly set him apart, a trademark of the Stahl’s bloodline. Those vibrant eyes seemed to represent the cloudy skies that blanketed their homeland, always watching over them.

The villagers stood in silence, unsure of what to do next. Then, one of the soldiers subtly gestured with his eyes for them to follow suit and bow down. Without hesitation, every villager mimicked the action, bowing before their king.

“We welcome the king!” – shouted the wavy black-haired man and the thousands behind him, attempting to replicate the soldiers’ posture. It was a gesture unfamiliar to them, having gone without contact with nobility responsible for their lands for the past forty years.

-x-

Henry and Leier strolled through the village, the king leaving his horse in the care of the residents. His first destination: the docks. He couldn’t hold in his desire for the open sea, the desire to expand his kingdom.

“Are there any larger ships?”- Henry asked, his gaze fixed on the docked ships. The sailors were throwing nets teeming with fish onto the wooden planks. The ships were small and simple, with only a single square sail and able to accommodate no more than ten people.

A tall, white-haired elder was walking alongside the king, his weathered beaten face was a testament of the time he spent on the sea. He had a long hair and a beard that reached his chest. The old man was wearing a leather attire, typical for the people in Stahl, who had no access to wool or cotton.

“Nay, yer Majesty” – he replied respectfully, trying his best to sound formal, but the accent of the sea filling his lips. The accent was quite strong, different from the other regions of Stahl. Maybe because they were too far away from the center of power or only this old man had such an accent – “We’ve tried to build larger ships to get more fishes, but the wood just can’t hold. They’re always breaking on us. Six already died”

He was one of the six shipbuilders in Frostwave Bay, perhaps of the whole kingdom. Henry had no one within his court with expertise in shipbuilding. The library he inherited, when acquiring the First Sword, likely contained no information on the subject either, its shelves were filled with ancient spells, martial arts and history books. He needed to develop the craft from here on.

“How far have you all gone from the bay?” – the king asked, his steps echoing with each footfall upon the wooden docks as he, Leier, and the old man walked.

“Not far, yer Majesty” – the old man replied – “We staysclose to the bay, always keepin’ it in our sights. Tried sailin’ farther once, durin’ the fish mating season, but the sailors said the winds turned ’em back.”

“Have ye sent any other ships to try?” Henry asked, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon through the cracks in the rocky barriers protecting the city.

“Nay, ’tis too risky, and the matin’ seasons come ’round only every six winters. We make do by stockin’ up on food, relyin’ on what the previous village chiefs left us” – The old man explained, gazing the king cautiously, remembering that the chiefs were all bandits.

Nevertheless, Henry didn’t seem to care – “Good” – he muttered, scratching his chin thoughtfully and tapping it in rhythm – “Summon all the other shipbuilders to the village chief’s house. I need a word with them”