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Year 2, December

December is unusually mild this year, with no snow on the ground. The people are well-fed and sheltered given the mild weather, and the trappers continue to pull in game even in the winter.

Marge sets up her brewery, and even manages to start up her first batch of beer, even though it won't be ready for a couple of months.

You spend most of your time working on etiquette and rhetoric with your squire and steward. The progress is slow, but you started from nothing, so that is to be expected. You imagine that you would still offend most high-born people at a fancy dinner, and your rhetorical skills are less than eloquent.

With the river still unfrozen, you manage to entice some more merchants in for future trading. Word is that your land is growing in reputation as a spot for trading, and you expect that next year's markets will be even busier.

You continue to work on your house, but you have more or less done all the minor repairs that you can on it. The next step would be to spend your remaining money on furnishings, or to start saving up for a new house.

You take your leave, and return home. The rest of the month passes without incident.

Suggestions for December, go!

He thinks for a moment. "If I had done you any real service, perhaps I would ask a favor in return. Perhaps your favor can be to continue growing your land, so that my people may trade with yours and together we may grow prosperous."

Sir Percival looks concerned as you mention the loss your people suffered. "Yes, Alan was speaking with me of your clash with those brigands just before you arrived. I can see how that would shake your people. I understand that it didn't exactly go to plan, but that your side prevailed."

"As far as my military advisor, I met him while campaigning with the King during the last war. I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your man."

Year 2, November

November is mild this year, which suits you well, as you have a good deal of travelling planned. You bring Marge Kannity along, in order to pick out a still, as well as Irlof, who has become your de facto adviser in all things money and trade. Alan also accompanies you, wary of leaving you alone without a guard.

You head to the abbey first, where you find the monks much more amenable to selling you a still this time. They seem to have bought one too many last year, expecting more turnover in their stock than they had, and now have an extra one lying around. Irlof is able to negotiate an unbelievable price for it, and you purchase it without any issue. You send Marge back to Feroshire with it to start setting up shop.

You continue your journey towards Sir Denton's land, and you attempt to put in for a visit, but he is apparently off visiting his wife's family. You poke around in his town looking for a saw for a mill, but are unable to locate one. While you are in the area, you head to Sir Percival's land to check there. You almost immediately stumble across a logging camp, which incidentally has a few extra blades for sale. Irlof once again negotiates a stunningly good price, and you send him back to Feroshire with the blades and instructions for Wood to start drawing up plans.

While in the area, you decide to visit Sir Percival. Alan goes ahead, and when you arrive, the two men are sitting in the drawing room of his small estate. What would you like to talk about?

Roleplaying, go!

Mine is still in planning stages. Needs seed money to get off of the ground. Basically, you have enough for either still or starting a mine. Saw for the mill is less expensive and could be paired with either.

Year 2, October

October starts on a somber note, with the funeral of the three dead spearmen and Tor. A local priest arrives, and you deliver a nice eulogy for the men. People are still shaken by the first conflict the area has seen in a while, but they are proud of their men. You talk up the battle, trying to make the fallen sound heroic, but are not sure if you have succeeded. You are still not a master of words yet.

Most of the month is spent finishing up the harvest. You send Irlof and Dent to town several times, exchanging pottery, furs, and a portion of the food given as taxes for hard coins. You finally have a small town treasury, which for now you simply keep in your house. As your Steward helps you understand, the money is technically all yours, but customarily the majority of it should be spent on helping the land grow stronger.

The harvest finishes, and the haul was about average. Between the communal farms, the taxes in food people pay, and the trappers, you have a medium supply of food for the winter.

Towards the middle of the month, the tax collector from the Count arrives. This time, your Steward and Irlof are around, and make sure that the tax collector is less severe in his reaping. Still, he takes a good chunk of your coins, probably about 10%, in addition to some pottery and grains.

All month, you notice more and more people streaming into your land. You are not sure whether it is because word of your banishing the brigands has spread, or what, but it is definite. Many of them settle in the city, probably due to the now expanding market, but also because there are several barrack-style buildings for new arrivals that Wood had constructed on his own initiative.

At the end of the month, you gather the people for a common-man's tournament. You set up brackets for weightlifting, throwing, wrestling, archery, and riding. The women of the land, independently, set up their own contest for the fairest maiden to be held simultaneously. It is, simply put, a smashing success. The people laugh and enjoy themselves. Many merchants stop and set up shop for the days the tournament is held. At the end, you throw a feast, and buy a keg of beer to share with the winners. All in all, it seems to have repaired any uncertainty about your leadership caused by the deaths of some of the men.

During this time, Wood begins work on a palisade, as well. He gives the town plenty of room to grow. The project will likely take a few months to complete. He spends this month digging foundations, knowing that the ground will freeze soon.

What would you like to do next month?

Time seems to slow as the mob of men rush towards your spearman. You realize that you can't leave him strung out there alone to die, and give out a yell. Your archers, having turned towards the brigands, are ready, and they let loose a quick volley. It is brutally effective on the relatively unarmored brigands, felling six men and wounding the large one, whom you can only assume is Ox, in the arm. A few pause and duck behind trees, but there are still about eight coming your way, including Ox.

As you lack a horse at the moment, you instruct your infantrymen to rush forward and form a line. The three spearmen plus Tor make the center, with you on one flank and Alan on the other. You reach your stumbling man, who rushes past you. Before your archers can get another volley off, the lead brigands crash into your lines.

The fighting is quick and fierce. Three brigands go down in the initial charge, but they follow up and engage you up close before your men can get another spear thrust in. Two of the spearmen go down to clubs and wicked, short axes, and you are clubbed hard in the shield. The blow glances off and catches your hip, stinging you badly. You stumble back, and find Ox has bowled over Tor and is standing over him.

You desire to engage the brute, but the man in front of you has your attention. You swing clumsily, and he strikes down on your sword with his club, sending the weapon flying out of your hand. You almost panic, but you slam into him with your shield and buy a moment as he stumbles back to recover your weapon.

As the man swings wildly at you, you stay low on one knee and cut out his stomach, guts spilling crudely onto the forest floor. You turn your attention back to the melee. Alan has sunk his sword into the shoulder of Ox, but you see that Tor's head has been smashed in to a pulp by the massive man's club. Alan is also bloodied and lying on the ground.

Roaring in anger, you charge the wounded giant, stabbing at him frantically. He smacks at your sword with his club, but you manage to hang on. He rears back to strike at you, but an arrow takes him in the thigh. He doubles over reflexively in pain, and you dispatch him with a swift chop to the neck.

Seeing their leader fall, the few remaining brigands break. The archers on the hills take care of a few more, but you are certain that several, maybe five, have escaped.

You take stock of the damage. Tor is dead. Alan merely had his wind knocked out, plus a few minor cuts. Out of your original five spearmen, only two remain alive. The archers are uninjured. Your hip stings fiercely. You sit for a moment, catching your breath. What now?