My Lord! Please! (A Character Driven Kingdom Building Novel)

By the time Lucien returned to the manor, the warmth of the afternoon had begun to fade from the windows of his study.

The second wave had been guided into the temporary shelters that had once housed the earlier arrivals by their fellow refugees. Even through the closed window, he could hear the distant movement of the village taking in several hundred new arrivals.

Inside the study, however, the air remained stilled.

A regional map, one that had not been drawn by Alicia, lay spread across his desk, its corners held down by an ink bottle, a paperweight, and two books taken from the nearest shelf. Lucien stood behind it with one hand resting near the marked path between Helvarn and Ashridge.

The guard with the tied-back hair stood with his hands clasped behind his back, shifting his footing slightly. He looked as though remaining still was an effort in itself, though he bore it with the grace expected of a household guard.

Beside him, the taller guard remained almost motionless. He had washed the dust from his face, but the travel stains still clung to the hem of his trousers and the seams of his boots. With his height and broad frame, he made the study feel smaller simply by standing there.

A knock came at the door.

"Enter"

The door opened, and Dorian stepped inside, his gaze settling on Lucien first.

"My Lord."

Lucien gestured to the map. "Dorian. Please join us."

Dorian gave a nod, walking over to stand beside him. He glanced at the two men, who stood even more rigid at their captain's arrival.

"Marcus, Report from the beginning."

The guard with the tied-back hair straightened before stepping forward. “Yes, Captain.”

He moved closer to the table, eyes passing over the map for a brief moment before he lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed to a spot just past the halfway mark from Ashridge to Helvarn.

“We first spotted signs of something wrong here. There is an old abandoned tower there...a watch shelter, I believe.”

At those words, Lucien exchanged a look with Dorian, who nodded slightly.

It was the same place they had camped during late spring, back when they were traveling to Helvarn.

Marcus continued, his finger tracing the path around the spot he had first indicated. “The shelter bore signs of recent use. At first, I thought it was just unruly bandits who had made a mess of the place.”

“What changed your mind?” Lucien asked, eyes remaining on the spot where the guard was pointing.

“Travelers don't typically leave that much refuse behind, My Lord. And they...” Marcus grimaced, the words trailing off briefly.

“The remains were human, My Lord.”

Lucien kept his expression carefully neutral, only inclining his head slightly. Beside him, Dorian's fist clenched briefly before relaxing once more.

The guard cleared his throat. “We decided to have the column stay farther up the road. After leaving Gerald to handle the arrangements for setting up camp, I took two guards with me to investigate the forest around the shelter.”

He traced a circle around the previous spot. “We found tracks near the treeline, but the stride was too long and heavy for goblins or kobolds. Some seemed to linger in place, leaving deep impressions where they stood.”

By then, Dorian's expression had grown stony, his hands deceptively relaxed even as his shoulders tightened.

Marcus glanced toward Gerald, who had remained silent until then.

“After Marcus left, I kept close watch for any signs, Captain...particularly around where the women were camping.”

The large guard’s deep voice lowered further. “They were watching us, but they didn't approach throughout the night. We doubled the patrols, and none of us slept.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then the captain growled.

“Orcs.”

At the word uttered by Dorian, the silence in the room only deepened.

Lucien folded his arms behind him. “If they came from the south, we should have seen signs closer to Ashridge. If they came from the west, Cragwatch or the road from there would likely have seen something first.”

His gaze lowered to the river marked across the map. “That leaves the east...which means they must be crossing the Easthollow river somewhere.”

He looked toward Marcus. “Did you find out anything else? Any signs other than the...refuse left behind?”

The guard shook his head. “No, My Lord. We dared not linger for too long after that. There were too many people for us to keep guard while risking a deeper search of the area.”

Gerald gestured toward the western side of the forest from the road on the map. “I saw no signs of their presence from the camp, My Lord. But we didn't venture into the forest to confirm.”

He pointed toward the path that led nearer to Ashridge. “After that night, when we continued along the way...they kept following us for the rest of the day.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “They didn't seem to stay for the second night either, My Lord. But...I cannot be certain of that.”

“They are watching where the women will be housed,” Dorian muttered.

Lucien glanced at the captain, whose eyes continued to stare at the map though he did not seem to truly be looking at it.

“Do orcs possess that sort of intelligence, Dorian? And would they remember where settlements like Ashridge and Cragwatch are?”

The captain remained silent for a brief moment before gritting out, “If this band has raided the region before and survived until now...yes. Their leader would likely remember, My Lord.”

Dorian stared down at the map, his jaw tight. “And they will certainly find out now if they did not know before.”

Beyond the northern wall, the recently built sawmill and the water gates remained vulnerable. Even now, there were people working in that area with minimal guard presence.

When Lucien looked at the captain, Dorian gave a firm nod, clearly having reached the same conclusion.

“I will increase the patrols around the area and station a permanent guard post there after this meeting, My Lord.”

“Two household guards as well. Have Merek and Henric take the first watch.” Lucien’s eyes drifted to the two men standing before him. “Marcus and Gerald. You two will take over after you have rested.”

At his words, they bowed. “By your command, My Lord.”

Lucien inclined his head. “Anything else to report?”

When they shook their heads, Lucien gestured in dismissal. “Go and have your rest then. You will need your strength in the coming days.”

The two men turned to leave after that, while Dorian remained behind, eyes still lowered to the map.

Only after the door closed behind them did Lucien walk around the desk and lower himself into his chair.

The map remained spread open before him, the marked road between Helvarn and Ashridge suddenly looking far less certain than it had that morning.

For a time, neither man said anything until Dorian finally lifted his gaze to meet Lucien's own.

“We need to know where they are crossing the river from, My Lord.”

He pointed toward the eastern side of the river. “If they have found a ford, then they could approach from the eastern fields...and we do not have enough men to guard both sides without drawing from the security of the village.”

“We cannot draw from the militia either. They...are not trained nor equipped to deal with orcs.”

Lucien rubbed his chin in thought. “The crossbows...how effective would they be in dealing with them, Dorian?”

The captain considered his question briefly before shaking his head. “From the walls, in a single salvo...they would take down a few. In the field, it would be a different matter unless we increase their number beyond what we currently have.”

Even with the apprentices having grown familiar with the process, Joren and Harlon were still in charge of conducting the final inspections. They had managed to increase production to ten stirrup crossbows a month.

Only a single additional windlass crossbow had been made in that same time, and using that particular weapon in the field carried too great a risk of it breaking.

The captain's gaze shifted toward the window. “Even with the crossbows...we still lack the men to guard both approaches, My Lord.”

Dorian had returned to the main point. When the captain met his eyes again, Lucien understood what he was really asking.

“She isn't part of the military, Dorian,” Lucien said at last.

Dorian shook his head, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “We both know she's more suited to this task. Better than anyone in the village.”

Resting his hands on the table, Lucien’s fingers tapped against the wood briefly before stilling. “I will ask her about it later.”

The captain held his eyes. “Ask, My Lord?”

“Yes. Ask, Dorian. If she chooses not to do it then I won't force her to.” Lucien’s tone came out sharper than he intended.

Dorian studied him for a long moment before finally inclining his head. “As you command, My Lord.”

Despite the words, he knew the captain did not agree with his decision.

Lucien let the silence linger before lowering his gaze back to the map. “For now, send men to inspect the riverbanks on our side first. Ask the villagers who have been here longest...see if any of them know of a ford.”

The captain gave a nod. “They would know best where such a crossing would lie.”

“And let Bran know of the situation as well. He will know who to tell next to avoid causing a panic. With so many new people within the walls, we cannot afford that.”

Lucien's eyes drifted toward the window. “If the orcs are watching Ashridge, then every guard we move will tell them what we are trying to protect.”

Dorian’s expression remained grim. “There is only one thing they are truly watching for, My Lord. No women leave through the gates without escorts.”

Slowly, Lucien inclined his head. “...For now, we will enforce that rule.”

When it was clear that there were no more orders, Dorian bowed and left the study soon after, closing the door behind him.

Only after the sound of the captain's footsteps faded did Lucien release the breath he had been holding.

The map remained open before him, inked roads and rivers lying flat beneath the weights at each corner.

On parchment, the problem looked almost manageable.

In reality, every border posed a different problem. From the north, workers continued to travel to and from the sawmill and the housing site within the village. The water gates they had spent the last few months building sat exposed to the forest.

In the east, farmers continued to work their fields even after the worst of spring planting had passed, tending crops that still needed water, weeding, and watchful eyes.

Women used the river for chores nearly every day as well, sometimes simply lingering there to speak with neighbors while the water ran cool around their ankles.

Lucien's fingers rested against the edge of the desk as his mind went back to what he had promised to do. He would not order Sera into the forest, nor place her beside the guards.

He would not allow Ashridge to pretend that her usefulness made her duty obvious.

But despite that, he knew what Sera's choice would be in the end.

His hand came up to adjust the shoulder strap, fingers brushing against the bow secured at his back. Only then did he realize he had carried them through the meeting.

When Lucien heard faint footsteps from beyond the study door, his eyes closed briefly.

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