Rise of the Frontier Lord [ Kingdom Builder ]

“Wha-where am I?” Callum croaked.

“Erald?” Mira said, stepping out of the kitchen.

“M-master Mira?” Callum gingerly rubbed at his eyes.

“Acolyte Callum, you’re awake. No sudden movements, please. Your body is in quite a state,” Mira said, collecting a bowl and a bottle and picking leaves and berries from several hanging reagents.

Memories of the beating flooded back to Callum as Mira placed several bowls on the bed’s edge to his side.

“Drink this,” she said, handing him a small wooden bowl.

Wincing, Callum drank the chunky, bitter substance.

“It might not taste great, but it’ll work a number on you. And this,” she added, passing him a cup of something.

“Give me a moment,” Callum moaned as he swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth.

The door creaked open, and Mira turned to spot Erald, “Erald, go get the Imperator.”

“Master Mira, I need to tell–”

Mira stared unwaveringly at her apprentice, then turned to the weary-eyed Callum.

“Right, I’ll get the Imperator,” Erald gritted his teeth and stepped back out the door.

“Alright, ready to drink?” Mira said, inching the cup toward Callum’s lips.

“Not really,” Callum muttered under his breath and took the cup, groaning as he downed it in one. “What in the Daggers was that?” he shivered.

“Ground roots and berries. It’ll bring your strength back. And just one more,” she added, turning to him with a smile as she took the cup and replaced it with a knuckle of root. “This one’s for the pain. And it doesn’t taste too bad.”

Sighing, Callum took it sheepishly, placed it in his mouth, and chewed.

“Not so bad now, is it?”

“It’s not horrible,” he said between chews of the chalky root.

A knock rattled the door, and it swung open as they turned. Erald stood aside, holding the door open as Mark entered.

“Mira,” Mark acknowledged before looking to Callum. “Good to see you’re up and awake, Acolyte Callum.”

“Imperator Atlas,” Callum said, groaning as he forced his arm up to salute.

“Relax, Acolyte. I want to see you heal.”

Callum lowered his arm, grasping at his side as he fought back another moan.

“I’m not here ceremony. I just wanted to see you healthy with my own eyes.”

“I’m doing okay, Imperator. Thanks to Mira,” Callum said, flashing her a quick smile.

“Good to hear. Let our master healer know when you’re feeling up to the task of a longer conversation. I have a few questions I want to ask.”

“It’s fine, I c–”

Raising a hand, Mark shook his head. “I said, relax, Acolyte. Take your time. It was quite a beating you took. Recovery comes first. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” Mark needed time as much as he was interested in hearing Callum’s confession. Not only was the boy already injured, but he was the strongest acolyte in the fort. As much as Mark hated it, he needed the kid. He needed time to come up with a punishment that would be suitable but also mitigated.

Callum nodded.

“Mira, come see me when you have a moment,” Mark added, turning for the door.

“Will do, Imperator.”

**Acolytes**

Keeping low, Erin followed snow-covered thickets, using them as cover as she trailed the ferals that spotted talking to the strange horseman.

There was nothing particularly interesting or unusual about them. Dirty faces and dressed in rough rags and the occasional fur—and she doubted she could point them out in a crowd.

The straw-mounted hovels continued into the woods, albeit far more sparsely than the number of feral homes dotting the clearing beside the fort.

The ferals she followed seemed entirely oblivious, but Erin took care not to be spotted by others in the passing homes—darting between trees when she had no other cover.

Soon, they stopped at one of the homes. Erin watched from between a few leafless birch trees a dozen meters away. A chimney protruded from the thatch roof, which appeared to be piled atop the ground, and a trail of smoke rose from it. 

The half dozen ferals formed a line outside the home as one approached a short, dugout trench that led into the hut. At its end was a door of tightly packed sticks, which the feral kicked and yelled something in a foreign, guttural language. 

As the door pushed open, the feral stepped back, and a big, bearded man with dark dreads down past his shoulders stepped out. He wore a two-headed wolf pelt over his back and tattoos over much of his exposed, muscular body. 

The two argued, and the big man pushed the feral, almost toppling him over and sending him scurrying back toward the other ferals.

As the big man walked toward the group, the other five ferals drew axes and daggers. The one he pushed hurried to his comrades and swung around, whipping out a dagger.

One of them pointed past the big man toward the hut at his back, yelling more barbarian gibberish—none of which Erin understood.

A couple of meters away, a hatchet lay dug into a stump. The big man’s eyes wandered over to it, and in response, two of the ferals stepped forward—their weapons held shakily at the ready.

The big man stepped backward, hands held high as he spoke.

What’s going on? Why are they attacking each other?

Erin shook her head as she tried to make sense of it all. Everyone knew the barbarians fought—finding feral corpses wasn’t particularly unusual. But ferals on horseback? That wasn’t something you saw often. These people were outsiders, clanless. To own a horse meant status. 

It has to be related to that guy; Erin shook her head as she watched. Raising the crossbow, she aimed at the ferals, a mote of steam escaping her lips as she exhaled.

“What are you doing, Erin? Have you gone crazy?” She breathed. She felt irrational for wanting to help this stranger, but something told her it was the right decision. Not just morally, but that the horseman played a role in whatever was happening, and she needed to stop it.

As her aim hovered over one of the ferals, it lunged forward, threatening to strike the big man with its axe. Reacting to the sudden movement, Erin pulled on the trigger. In a blink, the bolt whizzed through the air and stabbed into the heart of the man’s back. 

Confusion followed as the ferals watched the man fall to the ground. As their eyes caught the protruding bolt, they turned, scanning their surroundings for sight of their attacker.  

The large man acted immediately, pouncing for his axe and swinging back around. His lunging movements covered the ground in an instant, cutting one of the dagger-wielding ferals down with a slash across his jugular, kicking the man back as blood fountained freely. Following his momentum, he slammed his hatchet into the face of the next man, splitting his jaw in two and sending him gargling to the ground as he pulled the axe free. 

A feral to his side stepped forward, spearing his dagger toward the man’s midsection, but a clumsy parry from his axe sent the weapon flying, and the feral grasped at his hand, which had been mutilated—fingers bent in all directions. The man’s jaw dropped as his eyes glanced up just in time to see the axe as it drove into his forehead. And then stilled.

Two remained. One man ran, and the other charged the big man with his axe held high. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the hatchet twirling toward the man’s face. His eyes went wide as it thudded into him and fell sideways into the snow, twitching.

Erin turned her gaze to the running man. She hurriedly took a bolt and began rewinding her crossbow, watching as the man dashed through the trees. Her fingers trembled as she lined the bolt and raised her weapon, closing an eye to aim. Following his path, Erin waited for a gap in the obstructing trees and fired. 

The man slowed to a stumbled walk, patting at his neck where the bolt jutted out, and fell to his knees as blood spurted. He sat there momentarily in shock before faceplanting the snow.

“I did it,” Erin mouthed with a cloud of steam. What about the big one? She swung around just in time to catch the blurred shape of a fist. 

Pain. Dizzy breathlessness. 

“Ow,” she gritted her teeth as she tasted copper.

The icy ground met her as she fell back. Her head thumped with pain and spun as the blurred figure grabbed hold of her robes. She grunted as he yanked her up off the ground. She felt her lungs emptied as she was thrown against something hard and coughed. Wolf furs met her eyes as shapes realigned, followed by the crunches of steps in the snow.

Furs? The big feral… he’s carrying me?

**Mira**

“Imperator?” Mira said as she stepped into the cabin. “You wanted to talk?”

“How’s the boy?”

“Pretty good, all things considered. Waking up was the hard part. Thankfully, most of his injuries are bruising, and the swelling around his face has greatly reduced. Now that he can drink and eat, I should be able to get him back into his own cabin in short order.”

“That’s good to hear. I appreciate your efforts in all of this, Mira.”

“I’m a Star Maiden, Imperator. Healing the broken is as important to me as upholding the Imperium’s law is to you. There really isn’t any need for thanks.”

“That might be so, but we’ve got a rough road ahead, and keeping my acolytes alive is something I can’t help but be grateful for.”

“Well, if you really want to thank me, see us through it.”

“Ha,” Mark chuckled and sighed. “Trying.”

“That’s all we can ask for. So, was there anything else? I’ve got a pot boiling, and I don’t entirely trust that boy not to burn the cabin down.”

“One more thing. When you feel he’s ready, send Acolyte Callum here. Since he sounds to be in good enough health, I’d rather speak to him in private.”

“Will do,” Mira said.

“Oh, and Mira.”

“Yes?”

“The other Acolyte, Radic. How’s he doing?”

“The wound was clean. It didn’t hit anything important, and we’ve cleaned it up nicely. I’d say he’s in the best shape out of the three injured boys. But it will be a few weeks before he’s back to his normal self, at the very least.”

“Good news. Carrying on, Star Maiden.”

***

“That Imperator,” Mira said, closing the door behind her. “It’s good to see him taking our survival seriously again, but he just doesn’t seem himself. Or maybe I’m the one going crazy,” she continued, passing through the cabin into the kitchen.

“Master Mira,” Erald said with a raised hand as he followed after her.

“Can’t it wait, Erald? Today’s been long,” she sighed, taking a ladle from the bench and stirring her pot.

“No, it can’t.”

“Erald?” Mira turned with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry, but it can’t.”

“Okay, okay, take it easy. What’s on your mind?”

“Outside, beyond the walls. I saw something. When I went out to give Erin the supplies—I think she’s going to do something stupid. Or she is.”

“What did you see, Acolyte?”

“I dunno,” Erald shook his head. “A man. A feral, I think. But he was on horseback. And I don’t remember ever seeing ferals on horseback around here.”

“And what is this stupid thing you think Acolyte Erin is going to do?”

Erald swallowed, “The feral on horseback—it was talking to a bunch of other ferals. She said she was going to follow them.”

“What? Follow them? Why in the Daggers would she do that?”

“I dunno… well—I think. She was mumbling about the Imperator.”

“I see. Listen, Erald. Just like with the supplies, don’t mention this to anybody besides me, okay? I’ll speak to the Imperator myself.”

“Yes, Master Mira.”

*** 

“Mira?” Mark looked up from his desk as she burst through his door.

“Imperator,” Mira said, letting the door shut at her back. “I’ve heard something troublesome.”

“Oh?”

“My apprentice, Acolyte Erald. He and Erin saw a feral on horseback outside the walls. Apparently, this feral was meeting with others. And the girl—Acolyte Erin—she decided to chase after these ferals.”

“You sound worried, Mira.”

“Shouldn’t I be? When was the last time a feral, or any barbarian for that matter, was spotted on horseback around here?”

Mark rose from his chair. “Point taken.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I suppose I should go after her.”

“Erin? The Acolyte?” Mira raised a brow. She often wished the Imperator cared more about those around him, but this? An Imperator chasing after a sole acolyte went against their code. It went against the law. It went against his very core. 

“Who else?” Mark said, pulling his coat off of the hook beside the door. 

“Shouldn’t someone else?”

“We’ve got a manpower shortage, Mira. I can’t risk losing anyone else. And you mentioned a group of them.” Mark said, stretching his fingers with a crackle of energy as he made for the door. “Keep this between us, okay?”