章 8: The Plan
"So, the baron himself is the mastermind," Edward thought, his realization sinking in like a heavy stone.
"Foul money-laundering schemers!" his mind roared with indignation.
With his investigation bearing fruit and the true orchestrator of the bandit attacks unveiled, a storm of anger raged within Edward. The very idea that someone would amass wealth by exploiting the lives of his people ignited a fury that could not be contained. After all, who could justify profiting from the suffering of their own subjects?
Despite his strong desire to strip the baron of his ill-gotten wealth then and there, Edward found himself trapped by a lack of concrete evidence and the realization of his own limitations. The weight of the situation settled heavily upon him, a bitter truth he couldn't ignore. His sole glimmer of hope lay in the possibility that, if he managed to amass the necessary proof, he could seek assistance from his father. With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Edward resolved to withdraw to the lodgings provided for him within the castle walls.
During the course of the night, Edward meticulously crafted a plan that hinged on gathering irrefutable evidence against the conniving baron. He recognized that achieving this goal would demand the cooperation of his knights as well.
After a mere three hours of rest, Edward rose from his brief slumber, his mind resolute and his purpose unwavering. He knew it was time to convene with his knights and set their plan into motion.
Gathered in a secluded chamber, Edward's knights looked at him expectantly, curiosity etched on their faces. The seasoned veteran knight voiced the question that lingered in the air, "Why have you summoned us so urgently?"
Edward met their gazes with a somber expression. "Gentlemen, a grave predicament has come to light."
The younger knights exchanged puzzled glances, while the veteran's furrowed brow betrayed his concern. "What sort of predicament, my lord?"
Edward's gaze held firm. "The very banditry we discussed earlier, the one plaguing these lands—it appears that the baron himself is complicit in supporting it."
The chamber seemed to grow still as the weight of Edward's revelation sank in. One of the new knights couldn't help but exclaim, "Are you certain, Milord?"
Edward nodded, his tone resolute. "Yes, I have reason to believe that the baron is involved in these nefarious activities."
The shock on the knights' faces was palpable. "How can you be so sure?" inquired the older, more experienced knight.
Edward proceeded to recount the stark disparities he had observed between the struggling townsfolk and the opulent baron's castle, leaving out the specific details of the wealth assessment system. The incongruity between the baron's seemingly limitless affluence and the suffering of his subjects painted a compelling picture.
As Edward concluded his explanation, the room fell into a contemplative silence. The implications of the baron's involvement in the banditry weighed heavily on their minds.
The veteran knight finally spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and determination. "This is a grave matter indeed, Milord. But do we possess concrete evidence to substantiate these claims?"
Edward's eyes gleamed with a spark of determination. "That's precisely why I have summoned you all. We must gather the evidence necessary to expose the baron's misdeeds and bring justice to our lands."
The knights exchanged resolute glances, their loyalty to Edward and their duty to the realm fueling their determination. With a shared understanding, they began to outline their plan—a plan that would require cunning, strategy, and unwavering resolve.
An hour had passed, the weight of their plan hanging in the air like a charged storm. The veteran knight voiced the concerns that had undoubtedly been swirling in their minds, his tone cautious yet loyal. "Milord, if I may speak candidly, this plan carries a considerable degree of risk."
Edward's eyes met his, unwavering in their determination. "Indeed, it is not without its dangers. But it may well be our only recourse."
"As you command," the veteran knight acquiesced, a display of loyalty that extended beyond words. The room filled with a solemn atmosphere as the other knights joined the veteran in kneeling before their lord.
With a determined nod, Edward addressed them all, his voice steady and resolute. "Your dedication to this cause is commendable. Let us proceed with vigilance and conviction."
The knights rose, their readiness evident in their unwavering gazes. Edward bid them farewell as they departed to execute their respective tasks, each step a crucial part of the intricate plan they had woven.
In the corridors of the castle, a curious courtier inquired about their sudden departure. Edward, ever the strategist, provided a plausible explanation with calm assurance. He explained that they had received a direct order from the Earl to collect essential supplies from a nearby township and transport them to Norwich. The courtier's queries were met with assurances that their absence would be brief, no more than 10 to 12 hours, and they would return before the nightfall.
Content with the explanation, the courtier retired, and Edward's heart steadied. Their ruse had worked, and now their plan was in motion.
Returning to his quarters, Edward accessed the skill section he had so carefully cultivated. With a calculated decision, he exchanged a sum of £25 for 25 valuable points—a modest but necessary investment. With his points tally now standing at 103, he moved with the purpose of purchasing a skill that might hold the key to their success.
Among the array of skills, his attention was drawn to one in particular: 'Alchemy: Basic.' Understanding its potential importance in their endeavor, Edward committed 100 points to obtain this essential skill. As the transaction completed, a sense of empowerment surged through him. With this newfound skill, he held the tools necessary to navigate the complexities of alchemical arts.
Before long, Edward found himself in the castle's bustling kitchen, where the staff went about their tasks with practiced efficiency. He politely requested a saucepan, and without hesitation, it was placed in his hands. With the utensil secured, he retreated to his chamber, locking the door behind him to ensure his privacy.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of plans and possibilities as he stood in the room, saucepan in hand. Various recipes that filled his mind after he obtained the skill—recipes that held the key to creating certain crucial concoctions. Edward reached into his drawstring bag, retrieving a flint and steel. The cold metal of the steel met the rough edges of the flint, sparks igniting with each firm strike. Methodically, he repeated the process until a spark caught hold of a singed piece of cloth, smoldering into life. This ember was nurtured until it grew into a steady fire, its warmth a comforting contrast to the shadows that danced along the stone walls.
Gently, he placed the wood he had collected earlier into the flames, watching as they consumed the material. Thankfully, the stone floor beneath his feet was impervious to the flickering flames, granting him some measure of relief from the threat of a catastrophic fire. But the thickening smoke brought its own challenge—suffocation. He worked quickly, his actions a symphony of purpose.
As the fire crackled and the air grew heavy with smoke, Edward's focus shifted to the saucepan in his hand. With a practiced precision, he poured water into it, a foundation upon which his concoction would be built. His fingers deftly plucked common herbs from their hiding place, their presence in his palm a testament to his preparation. A touch of toad blood, carefully measured, joined the mixture—a crucial element that held untold potential.
Methodically, step by step, he followed the instructions that had been etched into his memory. Each movement was purposeful, each addition made with the intent of achieving a specific result. The mixture in the saucepan simmered, the elements melding and transforming into a gray liquid that held an enigmatic power.
As the flames began to wane, their glow diminishing, Edward recognized the urgency of the moment. Swiftly and decisively, he poured the now-complete gray liquid into a small pouch he had prepared, ensuring not a drop was wasted. With that final act, he brought an end to the fire, its glow snuffed out, and the room was once again enveloped in darkness.
The air hung heavy with the remnants of his actions, a mixture of scents and the aftertaste of determination. Edward's heart beat in time with the silence that followed, his mind clear and focused on the path that lay ahead—a path illuminated by the dim glow of justice, flickering in the darkness.
Low-Grade Poison Crafted!
Experience Earned: +47
Provide the Craft with a Name: ???
With the completion of his concoction, an air of accomplishment settled around Edward. The dimly lit room bore witness to his resourcefulness and determination, and as the gray liquid settled within the pouch, he knew that he held in his hands a potential instrument of change.
"Wymon," said Edward.
In a world where actions spoke louder than words, the name 'Wymon' resonated with meaning. It was a reflection of the barony where it had been born—a symbol of both the challenges and the potential that lay within its walls. With the name chosen, Edward's resolve only grew stronger. 'Wymon' was not just a concoction; it was a catalyst for truth and justice.
When clicked on the poison's name, the following pop-up showed up:
Wymon: A low-grade poison capable of paralyzing the enemy for a small period of time ranging from 2 minutes to 5 minutes depending upon their strength. Can be sold for £150-£200 per pouch.
A smile graced Edward's face as he decided to tuck the pouch carefully within the folds of his brown overcoat. Shortly thereafter, a knock echoed through the room, prompting Edward to swiftly conceal the materials beneath his bed. He opened the window to create an exit for the dissipating smoke, a subtle precaution against any prying eyes. With his room once again in order, he turned to the door to welcome his visitor only to find his four knights, who bore a serious and determined expression.
"Come inside," Edward invited.
As the knights entered, Edward's gaze moved from one to another, his curiosity piqued. "So, what news do you bring?"
"We've spoken with the villagers and townsfolk across the barony about the banditry," the veteran knight began, his voice carrying a weight of significance.
"It's confirmed that these bandits possess unusually high-quality weapons, armors, and sturdy horses. Their resources far exceed what's typical for a group of bandits. Additionally, a pattern emerged – after the bandits raided, court officials would arrive to assess the situation and promise compensation to the affected, but these officials never returned." he added.
Without a moment's delay, Edward retrieved a map of the Earldom of Norfolk that he had acquired from his father's study. He spread it across a small table in the room, its surface now adorned with the intricate geography of the land.
"Rufus, indicate the locations that have suffered from these plunderings," Edward instructed with purpose.
The veteran knight nodded solemnly, his gaze intent on the map. With a quill held firmly in hand, he meticulously marked thirteen points across the expanse of the map. Each mark represented a place where the bandits had struck, leaving their mark of chaos. The most recent addition was a village positioned near the outskirts.
Observing the map before him, Edward's eyes widened as a realization struck him like a lightning bolt. His finger traced a pattern that connected the marked locations—a pattern that seemed to align with the trade route leading toward the capital city of London.
A hushed silence filled the room as the gravity of Edward's observation settled in. The knights exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock and understanding.
Rufus, his voice steady despite the revelation, spoke up, "That means we're left with just two potential targets."
Edward's thoughts raced as he processed the information. "The town of Attleborough and the village of Besthorpe," he mused aloud.
A younger knight interjected, "But how do we manage to cover both locations effectively?"
Rufus' response was quick and pragmatic, "The distance between the two is a mere two kilometers. We can divide our forces to cover both spots. If one group encounters the bandit attacking, they can quickly reach out for reinforcements."
Edward nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Rufus, John, and Hughes will head to Besthorpe. Me and Nathan will proceed to Attleborough. If either group's location faces an attack, send a messenger to the other. We'll join forces swiftly."
With the plan mapped out and roles assigned, Edward concluded the meeting with a slight smile, a glimmer of hope lighting up the determined faces of his knights.
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