That was good shooting! Lantal hoped the man hadn’t wasted too many arrows; undead were hard to kill with regular bows. What he wouldn’t give for an enchanted crossbow and munitions like the Hunter’s Guild used…

The [Hunter] bowed as he wheeled wood over; the guards were already piling wood up to burn the stinking corpses.

“It was a lucky night, Lord Afiele. I had light to aim by. Some of the deer were even fresh enough to salvage meat from. We could offer you the best cuts.”

That was tempting. Fresh venison was always nice, and they were already paying for good food for Princess Seraphel. Lantal glanced at the village and counted the coins in his money pouch.

“I would pay for some.”

Rethis protested. So did Idelt and the other villagers congregating around the party, helping set up the pyre.

“Lord Afiele—a gift, please! For slaying the undead!”

The [Lord] hesitated, but the villagers were insistent. He held up a hand.

“Then—was anyone hurt? We have healing potions. No? Then I will accept some meat. Conditionally.”

Conditionally? The villagers blinked. Lantal waved for one of his group.

“If I pay for the wood. It’s troublesome enough to have to chop down more. Then, I shall accept some venison, Hunter Rethis. A shame we can’t cook it at this fire, but I’ve lost my appetite. I shall surely have it back by midday, though.”

That produced chuckles, and Lantal handed over some silver and a few coppers; pittance, but it made him feel justified as the undead went up in smoke that made everyone stay well clear until they began to turn to ash.

Even so, he ended up receiving venison and some fresh bags of wheat, which embarrassed him since there was already the monthly tax. But even Landsmecht had heard of the [Princess]—probably from Meltain and the others gossiping.

“She should feast on Afiele’s produce, if she’s to marry the Earl of Twilight. Perhaps then Ovela will lower the taxes.”

“True enough. I’ll have my [Cook] bake her a fine meal this very night, courtesy of Landsmecht’s fields!”

That brightened them up. The [Lord] smiled, watching the bear and deer corpses being burned. He was tired—but the relieved faces gave him comfort. As the [Lord] waited for the corpses to fully immolate, he turned to Idelt.

“It looks like the fall harvests are already begun. Is that your daughter in the fields? I had heard she was the village’s songmistress.”

Songmistress, or songmaster, was a role in Afiele. Each village needed something to pass by the hours of farming. They all had a [Singer], or [Flautist], or in this case—Idelt’s daughter. A [Cellist]. The man bowed, looking even more pleased that Lantal remembered.

“You do me honor, Lord Afiele.”

“Lord Lantal will do. And of course I’d remember. Your iron’s well-used across Afiele.”