Early in the morning, Sir Thorold arrived with a few remaining servants to meet Lady Celeste.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her face drawn and haggard.
"Some officials from the town hall have already left," Thorold said.
"Left? When?"
"Last night," he admitted, his voice tinged with shame.
Celeste's eyes widened. If provisions were already scarce, losing both people and supplies could doom the town well before winter.
"And what of the ten knights of your order?" she pressed.
Thorold looked down. "They aided them, milady. Only Galen and I remain."
Celeste clenched her fists. Eleven knights had once protected the town—now nine had gone at once.
Disaster loomed.
"How long will our food last?" she asked quietly.
Thorold shook his head. "The granaries are nearly empty. Even with stores in the keep, it might last a month at most."
"One month..."
Celeste bit her lips until they bled.
Winter was still two months away, and it would last at least three months.
Brindlemark needed at least half a year's provisions, and now they had barely enough for one month.
Sir Thorold considered the situation and said: "Our only recourse is to send the townsfolk of Brindlemark to distant lordships, with such victuals as we may spare. Perhaps there is still a chance."
He did not mention selling the title or fief for asylum again.
"If they are sent away, these people will become nothing more than wandering refugees. When the other lords stock their provisions for the cold winter, I fear that none would offer shelter to over a thousand starving souls."
Celeste remarked, and Thorold did not argue.
He knew the truth. He had seen similar tragedies before—lords shutting their gates and leaving countless refugees to freeze and starve.
The memory of their hopeless eyes haunted him.
"M'lady, permit Galen and me to escort you to a secure place," Sir Thorold said earnestly.
Celeste shook her head in silence.
Her home was gone—where could she go? And with over a thousand souls in Brindlemark facing starvation, she felt she had failed in her duty as their lady.
If there truly was no other option, she would have to take the last route: sell Charles' title and fief.
"M'lady, Sir Thorold, forgive my boldness, yet I bear tidings of grave news!" Galen rushed in hurriedly.
"What happened?" Thorold asked, his face grim. At this moment, he paid no mind to Galen's action.
"Baron Charles' title has been sold!"
"What!"
Both Thorold and Celeste were in disbelief.
Celeste was even more shocked.
Though she had considered the option, she had not yet acted.
"Impossible! Charles is gone, and his signet ring still rests with me. No one could have dared sell his title!"
Celeste's mind reeled.
If matters had rested with her, she could have guided the succession, perhaps choosing a noble of good reputation—but a new lord had appeared without warning, and all her plans lay in ruins.
Inheriting Charles' title meant that, from the moment the contract was signed, everything in the territory—including Thorold, Galen, and even herself—belonged to the new lord.
This explained why she had been unwilling to sell the title unless forced.
"M'lady, it looks like Baron Charles' title was sold, and the whole town council saw it happen." Galen scratched his head. He was a new knight and did not fully grasp the implications.
Celeste remembered something.
She quickly lifted her skirts and ran to the second floor, disregarding manners.
She found Charles' chamber and opened the door.
What she saw was chaos, with belongings scattered everywhere.
Although expected, the sight still chilled her—the baron's inheritance contract and the signet ring were gone!
Watching Celeste descend in despair, Thorold grimaced and muttered:
"Blast those traitorous scoundrels in the town hall! Their treachery binds us here!"
Since someone had bought Charles' title and fief, they now belonged to the new lord.
Leaving without permission would mean hanging on the gallows!
"If these rogues acted on their own, it was probably for a quick gain. But if the new lord is one of them—or even the former official—and compels us to remain in Brindlemark, then our fate is sealed." Thorold always considered the worst case.
Though he had no direct quarrel with the greedy officials, he could not ignore the risk.
"Ah? What should we do now?" Galen finally understood the severity of the situation.
From now on, their fate no longer belonged to them.
Leaving without the lord's permission was possible, but risky—they would lose knightly status and become wandering refugees.
No noble would hire a dishonored knight.
Celeste felt utterly helpless.
She did not know what awaited Brindlemark.
From the moment the new lord signed the deed, she was bound.
Now she could only pray that this new lord, whom she had never met, was a kind and reasonable person—someone who could bring Brindlemark back from the brink, treat its civilians fairly, and perhaps even treat her well...
Even though she knew those hopes were likely foolish.
Because she knew the true faces of nobles far too well.
Most likely, the new lord fancied the barony for his own gain, indifferent to the plight of its common folk.
...
"Lord Darien, won't you be leaving Brindlemark for the time being?"
Pansy stood at the town gate and bowed to Darien.
"Of course. I intend to stay in Brindlemark for the time being."
"Then let me give you a piece of advice. If there's a food shortage in Brindlemark, the untouchables will get desperate—and desperate people will do anything. Be careful!"
Darien raised an eyebrow. It seemed Brindlemark's situation was even worse than he had expected.
"Thanks for the reminder. I'll be careful."
"That's good then. Lord Darien, see you next spring!"
"Goodbye."
Watching Pansy lead the convoy away, Darien touched the signet ring in his hand, feeling both nervous and expectant as he stood before the castle gates.
---
🔍 Did you know?
- In medieval Europe, noble titles and lands could actually be sold or transferred—if approved by the monarch or council. Owning a title meant you inherited not just the land, but also the responsibility for everyone living there.
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