The survivors stared at Lothar, this blood-drenched demon who had cut through the bandits like a scythe through wheat, unable to believe his words. He had to repeat himself before one of them found the courage to rise.

"Honored lord. We thank you for saving us from those villains, and for granting us our freedom. But… where have we left to go?"

Lothar was silent. The village had been burned to its foundations. Rebuilding would take more time and labor than these people had.

The man, who had been the first to speak, continued.

"Our liege lord is cruel and miserly. I was his body servant. No one knows him better than I do. When he learns we failed to protect his manor, he won't execute us; no, he'll sell us all as slaves and strip us of everything we own.

"Honored sir knight, he will never help us rebuild. He'll squeeze out every last drop and abandon this place."

Lothar frowned. This was becoming complicated. "If he abandons his fief, will his own liege lord not punish him?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. But I doubt it will be serious: he is the lord's brother-in-law."

The man dropped to one knee, his voice earnest.

"Please. Let us become your followers. Everyone still alive here is young and strong. I swear: they will work like the most diligent mules, serve you like the most loyal hounds. All we ask is your protection."

Behind him, the other survivors—men and women alike—poured out their own promises of hard labor.

They could see what Lothar was: a rare thing in this world. A good lord. Serving as his bondsmen was nothing like being sold on the slave block.

And more importantly, this lord was strong. He commanded warriors in gleaming armor. He had cut the bandits down without breaking stride. He was worth ten of their old knight.

Lothar hesitated. "I understand your plight. But I have no fief to settle you on. I am bound for the Holy Land, to wage a hard war against the infidel. If you follow me, you will face danger."

The truth was, he did need followers. These dozen-odd men and women were in their physical prime, with a good balance of sexes: excellent prospective subjects. Much better than recruiting pilgrims in the Holy Land. After all, the kind of people who survived the grueling pilgrimage to Jerusalem as paupers… their moral character could be guessed at.

"Praise the Heavenly Father! A pilgrimage to the Holy Land is a sacred and glorious mission! If we follow you, your glory shall shine upon us lowly ones as well."

Every survivor dropped to their knees behind the body servant. Some were clearly still bewildered, but the servant's authority was plainly well-established. With him leading, the rest did not hesitate.

"Very well."

Lothar put aside his doubts.

"I am Lothar von Habsburg, knight of House Habsburg of Aargau. I accept your fealty. I vow that I shall not treat you as slaves; you shall be freemen of my domain. When I receive my fief, each of you shall receive land of your own.

"In return, you must swear before the Heavenly Father to serve me faithfully, to pay your taxes, and to answer the call to arms."

He'd counted. Seven men, six women. Thirteen extra ship fares.

For food and drink, the plunder seized from the bandits would cover them; he wouldn't need to spend a single extra coin. And from the sound of it, the bandits had looted a knight's manor. There would likely be surplus.

"Laine, fetch Modell. Hans, inventory the spoils. Return what belonged to these people. Assign them carts and animals to tend."

Laine and Modell were both illiterate; they could not even convert gold into silver. Hans would have to serve as clerk for now.

That dealt with, Lothar and Prajna turned to the three surviving bandits. The three cringing wretches were shaking so hard they could barely stay upright.

Lothar studied them.

"Your hideout. Where is it? How many are left there? Any traps?"

This wasn't about "rooting out every last trace of evil." He wanted to test whether the System would count the same bandit gang as two separate groups. If it did, taking their now-leaderless base might complete the Knight-Errant milestone.

He was learning, more and more, how precious talent was. Even Hans, a mere one-star in the System's eyes, was a caliber of man no ordinary knight could ever recruit in this era.

None of the three spoke. Lothar found it strange. These spineless creatures who had surrendered without a fight. Now they found their courage?

"I'll spare the man who talks. I swear it before the Heavenly Father. The offer stands only once. Whoever speaks first, lives."

Finally, one cracked. He raised a trembling hand. "My lord… the hideout isn't far. We were going to finish our celebration here before heading back."

"Pieke, you dog-born bastard, shut your mouth! Have you forgotten the oath we swore before the Heavenly Father? Do you want to burn in the fiery pit?"

The man next to him erupted in curses. Pieke gave as good as he got.

"You and old John both have wives and children back at the hideout! I've got no one. What's wrong with wanting to save my own skin? Why should I lay down my life for your families?"

Lothar nodded. "You're clever. Now tell me the location, clearly. Don't try any games. I'll bring you with me to your hideout, and release you once we've confirmed you told the truth."

Pieke spilled everything like beans from a sack. He trusted Lothar. Men of this age still took oaths seriously, knights above all. A knight who broke his sworn word would be deemed dishonored: social death, pure and simple.

"My lord, I've told you everything. The traps, the layout: not a single thing left out."

Lothar nodded. Then he raised his voice. "My people! Did any of these three murder your kin, or rob your property?"

The men and women who had just reclaimed their belongings looked up, and hatred flooded their faces.

"Him! He killed my mother and violated her corpse!"

"That one murdered my father! He cut off his head and put it on a spear to terrify the rest of us!"

"The one-eyed beast. I saw him with my own eyes. He dashed my three-year-old son against the wall. His little head… it caved in."

The woman who spoke collapsed into keening sobs.

"Then let grievance meet grievance. Blood for blood."

Lothar turned and walked away.

Pieke's face twisted in terror. "Sir knight! You swore to spare my life!"

Lothar did not look back. "I did spare your life. They have chosen not to. As their lord, I grant them the right to justice: to claim vengeance with their own hands."

Long-suppressed rage boiling over, the men and women seized the bandits' weapons and descended on the three bound men. They were border-folk, no meek lambs waiting for slaughter, especially against three unarmed brigands. The screaming faded, then stopped.

The body servant was the first to kneel before Lothar, a bloodied arming sword in his hands.

"Thank you. Thank you, our sworn lord. You risked breaking your own oath before Heaven to grant us this vengeance. I swear: I will serve you forever."

Lothar shook his head. "This right is not permanent. When I receive my fief, I will lay down laws. Vendetta will no longer be permitted. All shall proceed by the law."

He paused. "And I did not break my oath. Do not say I did."