The knight and the hermit—two of my subordinates—stood waiting at the front doors of the mansion. Gentle snow drifted down from the cloudy afternoon sky, settling softly across the grounds.
"How did the mansion tour go, my lord?" the hermit asked, wearing the gentle smile of a kind old man.
"Very well," I replied. "The mansion was truly magnificent."
"That is good to hear," he said, his smile unchanged. He gestured broadly toward the grounds surrounding the manor. "Shall we tour the garden next?"
"Or perhaps you would like to see the barracks?" the knight interjected smoothly.
"But shouldn't our lord first become familiar with the land around his own manor?" the hermit countered, still smiling.
"Between looking at plants and showing the troops that their lord has truly survived the disease and awakened," the knight replied with a smile of his own.
As the two continued their polite argument, I felt a frown form on my face.
"You two!" I said sharply, my voice carrying the authority befitting a noble. "What are your names?"
Both froze instantly, then straightened.
"My name is Nikos, my lord," the hermit answered. "I am your advisor and the family's physician."
"And I am John, sire," the knight said. "Commander of your levies and your personal knightly bodyguard."
"Good," I nodded. Then I continued, "We'll visit the garden first since it's closer. After that, we'll go to the barracks—and if time allows, we'll survey the city as well. You two will be my guides for today. Any objections?"
"No," they replied in unison.
The snow continued to fall as my first day as lord of this land truly began.
---
The garden surrounding the mansion was filled to the brim with all manner of local herbs, the kind that thrived in cold regions. Thyme, yarrow, chamomile, juniper, and more grew in dense patches throughout the grounds.
It was not a beautiful garden in the conventional sense. Instead, it valued practicality over appearance—and I found myself liking it all the more for that.
Nikos personally explained the purpose of each herb, detailing what they were used for and how they were grown. Some required careful tending, while others sprouted stubbornly from the soil on their own, resilient against the cold.
As he spoke, I could see genuine passion in his eyes.
So I listened. Carefully.
When he finished, Nikos stepped back and bowed deeply.
"That is all, my lord," he said. "Thank you for taking interest in my work… and in the gardener's as well."
His gratitude felt sincere and almost heart warming.
"Gladly," I said with a smile.
I turned around—only to find John, the commander, stifling a yawn, his earlier enthusiasm nowhere to be seen.
"Your turn," I said. "I'd like to take a look at the troops next."
At that, his expression changed instantly. His eyes lit up with unmistakable passion.
"Then let us go, sire!" he said eagerly. "I'll go fetch a horse for you at once!"
"I don't know how to ride a horse," I replied flatly.
He froze for half a second before laughing softly. "Ah—of course. My apologies, sire. I forgot about your amnesia."
Then, with a sheepish grin, he gestured to himself as if the solution were obvious.
"In that case… would you mind riding with me sire? You can sit behind me on the same horse."
He shrugged, his expression practically saying "silly me".
---
The city was filled with Fachwerk-style houses, most of them built from poor-quality pine wood. Some doubled as shops, others as small restaurants, but the majority were nothing more than ordinary homes for the townsfolk.
"Fire hazard"
That was the first thought that crossed my mind.
Does this city even have a firewatch? I wondered as I rode through the streets behind John, my personal knight.
I was about to voice the question when something else caught my attention—something far more immediate.
"The Roads"
Or rather, the lack of them.
What passed for streets were little more than dirt paths riddled with potholes. Mud clung stubbornly to the ground, and beggars lined the sides of the road. Even for this era, it felt wrong.
Worse still were the people.
The townsfolk who walked past us wore expressions hollowed out by exhaustion. Their eyes held no spark, their steps carried no purpose. Their clothes were torn, stained, and worn far beyond what poverty alone should have caused.
Most stared at me with indifference.Some bowed stiffly out of habit.Others looked away with thinly veiled resentment.
Each time, John's gaze snapped toward them, sharp and warning, forcing their eyes to drop.
That alone told me enough.
This wasn't normal hardship.
It felt like neglect—deep, systemic, and long ignored.
It seemed my family had ruled this city so poorly that resentment had quietly taken root, spreading beneath the surface like rot in damp wood.
I clenched my hand without realizing it.
"I must fix all of this" I swore it silently, deep within my heart.
Not as a noble.Not as a lord.
But as someone who had inherited the consequences of their action.
Just then, the barracks came into view.
---
The barracks—or rather, a small pinewood lodge with a dirt field in front of it—stood near the city's wooden gate. At the very least, it had a stable for horses.
That was its only redeeming quality.
After we tethered our horses, John and I headed straight inside to inspect the troops.
According to him, there were around forty men-at-arms present at the moment. That number did not include the sixty town guards currently on duty throughout the city, nor the three hedge-knights who served directly under him.
Given the condition of the city, its roads, and its people, I hadn't expected much from the troops.
But by the gods…
This was horrid.
John blew a sharp signal whistle to assemble the men.
What emerged from the barracks could hardly be called soldiers.
They shuffled out slowly, some openly complaining, others dragging their feet as if the very idea of standing in formation offended them. Discipline was nonexistent. Worse still, nearly all of them were underweight—thin arms, sunken faces, bodies that spoke clearly of malnutrition.
Eventually, they formed something resembling a line. Loose. Uneven. Crooked.
The sight struck my tabletop wargamer instincts like a personal insult.
"This is your loyal force, sire!" John declared loudly. "They are more than ready to fight for you!"
His smile was unmistakably sarcastic.
A few of the men even scoffed.
I stood there in silence, my eyebrow twitching as irritation coiled tightly in my chest.
---
And so, the mission to fix this city had truly begun.