by Jeremy Dwyer
“Fight?” Molly asked.
“Yes and no. Yes, I’d like to kill them. No, we don’t stand a chance,” Ruth said.
“The baron is all about speed and strength. He drinks the tiger waters – Nabavodel. He’s only a little bit smart, and a whole lot of violent. Let’s get him to start the fight. It’s what he’s most likely to do,” Sophie said.
“And he’s most likely to win it,” Ruth said.
“Let’s make him think he’s going to win,” Sophie said.
“How? He can count. He’s at least that intelligent,” Patrick asked.
“Odhran, if you and the other farmers gather your crops and line them up in rows and columns, piled high on the outside, piled low on the inside, we can make it seem that there’s more than there really are,” Sophie said.
“That’s possible, until the merchants arrive and count it out carefully. You can’t fool them,” Odhran said.
“Correct. There is no chance of that working,” Patrick said.
“I thought you wanted a fight, not a bluff,” Ruth said.
“We’re plan for either or both. We grow what we can in the next few days…don’t work too hard. Just enough to make it look like we’re going to turn a profit with the differently sized piles. If the merchants arrive first, we pay them to take us out of here. They can have the crops for free. If the baron arrives first, we ask him to wait until the merchants arrive and pay us for the crops, so we can pay him. What’s a few extra hours if he gets paid that day?” Sophie said.
“Under the second part of your plan: if the baron arrives first, and he agrees to wait, the merchants will still count the true crop yield and give us the actual price,” Patrick said.
“Which won’t be enough,” Odhran said.
“Correct. Then what? Your fight?” Patrick said.
“This is going to be good. Not,” Ruth said.
“Not our fight. The merchants are going to fight the baron. We accuse them of coming in the night and stealing our crops, then rearranging the piles to hide their theft. Let the baron punish them for the losses,” Sophie said.
“No! That will get innocent people killed. False accusations will came back upon us. It is against the Law of God to do this,” Elise said, pausing in her prayers to rebuke this plan.
“The merchants are crooks. If they paid fairly, we wouldn’t have these problems. They deserve what the baron does to them,” Sophie said.
“You’re assuming that the baron even believes the lie,” Patrick said.
“This is unacceptable. I will speak the truth if you will not,” Elise said.
“Wait a minute! Whose side are you on? The baron’s going to kill you or your husband or both if we don’t do something. We can’t make up the harvest shortfall because the soil is too rocky, and we can’t escape without a ship. We can’t fight the baron head on without our own army. Sometimes a little trickery is the only answer,” Sophie said.
“I will pray for an answer – one that is truthful – and God, the Father who loves us, will provide,” Elise said.
“Have you always prayed to this God the Father?” Sophie asked.
“Yes. Always,” Elise said.
“And yet we’re still in this mess?” Sophie asked.
“We are not out yet, but we will be. Have faith in God,” Elise said.
“Has faith ever saved you?” Sophie asked.
“Every prior harvest has been enough, and we have survived. I have faith that God will provide for us this time, as well,” Elise said.
“I have no faith. None. Not a drop. Ever. In our mining village, we always produce. We sometimes overproduce. We do it without faith. No God ever came to help us. We did all the work. So, I don’t need faith and I don’t need your God or whoever you worship to get the job done. I need a plan. And I have a plan, but you’re clearly ready to break it all apart for some fairy tale,” Sophie said.
“If your plan is built on a false accusation – which a sin – then I will speak the truth against it,” Elise said.
“Is murder a sin? Because if you ruin this plan, we’re all dead. You know that, right?” Sophie asked.
“I’m getting scared. Even if Sophie tries her plan, it might not work. The baron might not believe us about the merchants stealing. And it doesn’t even matter: you’re just going to tell him everything. Why do you have faith? That doesn’t even make sense,” Molly said.
“Yeah, why do you have faith?” Ruth asked.
“We were formed by a Loving God. We are frail, yet we exist and endure. We have little power of our own, yet He provides the oceans. These are not chance happenings, but according to His Design,” Elise said.
“I am willing to believe you, but we are in danger, and something needs to be done. Have you ever come close to losing your life, and been saved by this faith,” Ciaran asked.
“Up until I was sixteen (16), I traveled Waderav with my parents, who were agricultural statisticians. They studied the harvest yields and made plot designs for crop rotation. They drank the waters of the Medathero Ocean so that they could calculate their designs, and analyze the results, using the proper equations,” Elise said.
“This is very interesting. It might even be able to help us to use their plot designs, if you have records,” Patrick said. He knew that he would understand the equations: he just needed to see them.
“Unfortunately, I do not have the designs. Waderav is dangerous, and not just because of the robber barons. The eastern coast meets the Gradaken Ocean, and some of the sea serpents crawled up onto shore, slithered into the fields, and attacked the people working there. Their venom is lethal, and my parents were killed by it that day. I ran as fast as I could, but I tripped over a rock and broke my ankle, so I couldn’t get out of the field to avoid the serpents. A large one was approaching me – I knew it because it was rustling the wheat stalks. I called for help but nobody came. All I could think of was to pray, and a man appeared out of nowhere to help me, and he carried me out of the field, before the serpent could find me and strike,” Elise said.
“Who was it?” Ruth asked.
“To this day, I don’t know the man’s name,” Elise said.
“Somebody came out of hiding and rescued you – you got lucky. That doesn’t mean it was God,” Sophie said.
“He heard me in my time of need. I know that man was sent by God,” Elise said.
Sophie looked at Elise’s neck where she saw a chain holding a vial that was carved with the classical symbols denoting the song waters. “You drink the Pirovalen waters. You’re a singer, so your voice carries far. I’m not surprised somebody heard you,” Sophie said.
“Yes. I’m a singer, and not much of a farmer. I wish I could have helped with the harvest directly, but my work adds little,” Elise said.
“You have faith. Believe what you want, but it can’t change your waterbinding, or make you more productive during the planting or the harvest. Why would you even drink those waters?” Sophie asked.
“So that I can pray to the best of my ability. God the Father deserves the greatest prayer that I can give, in a voice that exalts Him,” Elise said.
“How does that help us now?” Sophie asked.
“Keep praying. I believe you – something important happened to save you that day,” Ciaran said.
“I want to believe you. Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure this happened just as you said. But Sophie’s right: how does this help us now?” Ruth asked.
“We must speak only the truth. I have faith that we will be protected,” Elise said.
“Begging won’t work. We have to work, hide, escape or fight. Those are the only choices,” Sophie said.
“Work won’t be enough, Sophie,” Odhran said.
“Unless she prays for it to be enough. Throwing dice wouldn’t help any more or less, either,” Sophie said.
“Fighting the baron ourselves isn’t possible,” Ruth said.
“That leaves hiding and escaping. Since the boat isn’t here ye
t, and might not be here in time, where can we hide?” Patrick asked.
“We can start walking. Fast. That way,” Molly said.
“That might be the answer, after all,” Courtney said.
“That riverboat is an airship, too. He’ll catch us if we go on foot,” Patrick said.
“We will rest. Pray with me. And when the baron comes, God will provide for us and protect us,” Elise said.
“I like the sound of rest. It’s better than working for the baron,” Ruth said.
“Yeah, really,” Courtney said.
“That doesn’t mean we stop planning,” Sophie said.
“Planning for what? You got anything else?” Sean asked.
“I will pray with you,” Ciaran said.
“I will pray with you, Elise. Because I love you. Yet, you have been praying ever since we met, and we are still facing this oppression,” Odhran said.
“Can I pray with you? How do I pray?” Molly asked.
Elise drank anew of the waters of the Pirovalen Ocean from her vial and was energized. “Take my hands,” Elise said. Ciaran, Molly and Odhran joined her in a prayer circle.
“Loving Father and Provider, Creator and Merciful Protector. Please hear this prayer, so that the oppressor does not destroy us in his wrath, so that we have enough, so that we can be guided to safety,” Elise said in prayer, in a sing-song voice. They prayed each day in the same manner, waiting for the baron to arrive. After twelve (12) hours of daily prayer at the edge of the field, they rested.
Sophie, Ruth, Courtney, Sean and Patrick all debated different plans, unable to agree on a reliable strategy. They did, however, formulate contingency plans that Patrick estimated had less than a one in one hundred thousand (1/100000) chance of succeeding. Still, it was better than nothing. They also directed the other fifty-six (56) farmers to pile up the bundles of crops from the meager harvest according to Sophie’s earlier design. If they could buy even a little time with some trickery, they hoped that they might just have a chance.
~~~
Baron Vizakrid waited in his castle until the promised day. He would leave later in the day, to allow the merchants time to arrive and buy the crops from the farmers. Then, when he arrived, he would be able to collect his tax payment and leave. He wasn’t doing this to be kind or fair, but to not waste his own time. Punishment was an incentive, not a goal. Getting paid was the goal.
When the middle of the day arrived, Baron Vizakrid called his guard captain and said: “Bring your troops, as well as a light scout. They may try to hide, escape or fight.” After gathering the one hundred fifty (150) troops and a light scout, they all drank their waters: the light scout drank the waters of the Lujladia Ocean from his vial and the troops, the guard captain and Baron Vizakrid all drank the Nabavodel waters from their own vials. Now that they were energized, they boarded the riverboat and set their course for the farming village.
~~~
On the eighth day, Patrick and Sophie kept a lookout, waiting to catch sight of the riverboat of Baron Vizakrid. Since they did not possess far sight – which would require drinking the waters of the Lujladia Ocean – they would not have significant advance notice. However, they did not want to have no notice whatsoever.
When Baron Vizakrid’s riverboat appeared in the distance – and it was clear that they were not spotting a merchant ship – Sophie said: “This is the moment of truth.”
“Let’s assume they have a light scout, so they saw us a while ago,” Patrick said, holding a book in his hand.
“Let’s put on our happy faces. No one who can pay their taxes to the baron should look scared,” Sophie said, smiling and appearing calm.
“Where did you learn to bluff?” Patrick asked.
“It’s not a bluff. It’s just a bit of optimism. The bluff comes later,” Sophie said.
~~~
The light scout on board Baron Vizakrid’s riverboat said: “Baron, I see them still waiting for us on the riverbank. I saw them before we left, and they haven’t moved from that spot.”
“Then they are ready to pay me. Bring the ship to the riverbank so that I can collect,” Baron Vizakrid said.
The riverboat was brought to the riverbank and the boarding ramp was extended. The light scout scanned the area, looking for an ambush, but found none. “All clear,” the light scout said.
The guard captain led the one hundred fifty (150) troops, who surrounded Baron Vizakrid for protection. When they disembarked from the ship, they met Patrick and Sophie. The light scout also left the ship and approached.
“Greetings, my lord,” Patrick said.
“Are you ready to pay, Patrick? Make this quick, so that I can leave and you can get back to work,” Baron Vizakrid asked.
“Not quite, my lord. We have our harvest, but the merchant ship still has not arrived. This is their scheduled day,” Patrick said.
“I will return tomorrow, then, rather than waiting. My time is valuable,” Baron Vizakrid said.
Patrick glanced at Sophie as if to ask whether they should quietly agree, but her eyes were filled with spite and certainty and indicated the negative.
“My lord, the merchants are rarely late by more than a few hours. They should arrive at any time. We have a matter to discuss with you, however,” Patrick said.
“What is it, Patrick?” Baron Vizakrid asked.
“While we have the harvest yield, we have made some calculations and realized that the merchants have underpaid us in the past, and we realize how and why this has happened,” Patrick said.
“How is this my problem? They pay you what you can negotiate, and you pay your taxes to me from that. As long as I get paid in full and on time, I do not care about the details,” Baron Vizakrid said.
“They have underpaid us by so much that we could have paid you one third (1/3) more in taxes, on time, for the past year,” Patrick said.
“Can you prove this?” Baron Vizakrid asked.
“Yes, we can. We only need for you to look at our shipments, which have been prepared and kept in the barn,” Patrick said.
“Point in the direction of this barn,” Baron Vizakrid said.
When Patrick gestured, the light scout looked in that direction, one thousand five hundred (1500) feet away, peering into the barn, looking for signs of danger, but found none. “I see nothing unusual, Baron. A barn filled with bales of wheat, oats, and other crops, piled high,” the light scout said.
“Where is this proof of underpayment, Patrick?” Baron Vizakrid asked.
“Here are the records, in this book,” Patrick said.
The guard captain snatched the book from Patrick’s hand and passed it to the baron, who opened and examined it.
“What am I looking for?” Baron Vizakrid asked.
“Payment for wheat. You won’t find any. They paid the market rates for oats and barley, corn and potatoes, but never the market rate for wheat. Instead, you will find a higher than usual quantity of oats, which command a lower price. The crop quantities were recorded into the wrong column to hide the fraud. These farmers were being cheated. Had I been here to keep their books, this would not have occurred,” Patrick said.
“Perhaps the merchants were overpaid. If so, I will have to discuss the matter with them. However, the fool farmers who could not keep their own books will have to pay a price as well. They can no longer be trusted. What farmer cannot count his own wheat yield and his own oat yield and tell the difference? Are they truly that dumb? Let me look into this barn. Maybe the wheat is spoiled, for all I know,” Baron Vizakrid said.
The light scout looked ahead, continuing to scan the barn and its perimeter and interior. When he verified that it was all clear, he signaled the guard captain, who led the way in, keeping the one hundred fifty (150) troops surrounding the baron to protect him.
When they arrived, Baron Vizakrid said: “Bring me a bale of wheat, a bale of oats, a bale of corn, a bale of barley and a bale of potatoes. I am no farmer, but even I know the difference.”<
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“I will bring it, my lord,” Patrick said.
“No! My guards will do that,” Baron Vizakrid said.
“Be careful, please. They are piled high,” Patrick said.
Sophie and Patrick watched nervously as five (5) of the guards went into the barn and removed bales of wheat, oats, corn and potatoes, bringing them back to the group. The piles inside the barn teetered.
“Taste these,” Baron Vizakrid said to the guards.
The guards opened the bales to sample their contents and found them to be ordinary. “Nothing unusual, my lord,” they said.
“Bring me more,” Baron Vizakrid said.
“My lord, these are the crops with which we will pay your taxes, after the merchants pay us fairly, which they do not. We were hoping you could discuss that with them because they respect you,” Patrick said.
“I want to see if there is something wrong with these crops – a disease, a pest or something else that would lead the merchants to underpay you. If the crops are acceptable, then the merchants are at fault. If the crops are damaged, then the liability is upon you and this farming village,” Baron Vizakrid said.
Ten (10) more troops entered the barn and brought our more bales of crops and sampled them. Sophie and Patrick watched nervously as they did so. The piles teetered again.
“Taste these,” Baron Vizakrid said.
The guards tasted the wheat, oats, barley, corn and potatoes and found them to be typical. “Ordinary wheat and oats, corn, barley and potatoes, my lord,” they said.
“Again. This time, take twenty (20),” Baron Vizakrid said.
“My lord, whether these crops are healthy or damaged, we must treat them with care. If the piles topple and the bags rip, spilling the yield and spoiling it, we will be unable to sell them and pay even a small portion of our taxes,” Patrick said.
“Change that. Take thirty (30) more bales. If they are good, then I will believe your claims,” Baron Vizakrid said.
Sophie and Patrick watched nervously as thirty (30) guards entered the barn and took more bales. Then, the piles toppled, falling onto those guards, knocking them to the ground.
Baron Vizakrid screamed: “Fools! Can you not lift a bale and carry it?”