By the time Lothar emerged from the palace, Baron Godfrey was already gone.

A servant handed him a note bearing the baron's address in the Holy City. Baron Godfrey had invited him to call once he had settled his affairs.

The abrupt transition from the dim palace halls to the blazing midday sun made him shield his eyes. No wonder so many Crusader lords had adopted Arab dress. He was already convinced he needed a loose white robe and matching headscarf of the sort worn locally.

The System chimed in his ear: Milestone completed — I Have a Little Manor.

Description: A manor is a core component of any lord's holdings, and a vital source of income. The hardest step is the first. You now have your first manor. Will a second follow? A third?

Advanced Milestone unlocked: Real Estate Mogul — Acquire ten manors or workshops. (1/10)

You have received: One Card Draw.

Lothar's lips curved. Just as he'd expected: here in the Holy Land, opportunities for Card Draws came more readily, even before he gained a fief. In his old life, he had designed so many milestones that he could no longer remember half of them.

Fringilla, who had been waiting outside for what felt like an eternity, was the first to approach. "What's that smile about?"

"Nothing much. The King granted me a manor in Jerusalem. We'll have a place to stay: no more inns."

Delight flashed across Fringilla's face before she smothered it beneath an aristocratic sneer. "One little manor is enough to make you beam like a fool? I grew up in the Blood Court's palace—a fortress the Blood Lord raised with ten thousand werewolves laboring for three full years. Beside it, Jerusalem's palace is a country lord's farmhouse."

She was trying very hard to look aristocratic and aloof. Lothar was utterly immune; he simply ushered her aside with a perfunctory expression.

"Yes, yes. As you say, my princess."

Prajna watched this exchange in silence. Her face, as always, betrayed nothing. But Lothar gave her a warm smile all the same.

He held a particular feeling for Prajna. They had built everything together from nothing. She had been at his side through every day, every night, listening to his thoughts. She was a friend. Something closer to family.

If he was honest, there was something else as well. No man could spend every waking hour beside a woman like Prajna and feel nothing—unless he was a eunuch of the Eastern Court, or a liar.

Lothar turned to face the others.

"Everyone, I was received by His Majesty today and swore my oath of fealty. The King has granted us a manor in the city. It will be our residence in Jerusalem."

"His Majesty favors you so highly!"

"I heard many knights from Gaul were turned away without even an audience!"

"My lord, you're rising in the world."

Hans, Laine, and Modell were all clearly thrilled. Even the villagers, his followers, felt a flush of reflected pride.

From the moment they crossed the sea at Lothar's side, their fates had been bound to his. If he allowed them to live, they lived. If he ordered them to die, they died.

By law, they were free men. In practice, they were serfs in all but name. Because the law was whatever Lothar said it was, and he could rewrite it tomorrow. The only people who could truly claim to be "free" in this world were the craftsmen and merchants of the free cities.

"Lord Lothar, now that you have a manor, does that mean we'll have fields to farm?"

The speaker was anxious. If there was a way to live without all the killing, so much the better. Not everyone raised in the Austrian March came out a hardened fighter.

"I'm afraid not," Lothar said, shaking his head. "The estate His Majesty granted me is not a knight's fief. It's a villa: a residence. There are no fields, no serfs attached."

It fell well short of what the System would recognize as a "territory."

Disappointment crumpled the man's face. He was the most timid of Lothar's male followers; his hands had trembled even while he cut down the bandits.

"Your name's Dieter, isn't it? I remember."

"Tevel, my lord," the man murmured.

Lothar cleared his throat and pressed on. "I know you don't care for war. But let me ask you this. If I do win a fief someday and give you land, how will you hold it? Or do you imagine that when the infidels come and put your lord to the sword, they'll leave you in peace?"

"I..."

Tevel stood there, struck dumb.

Lothar looked at the others. "The choice is yours. You can cower before the bandit's blade like you used to, or you can take up the spears and shields I've given you and fight."

"My promise has never changed. The day I receive a fief, every one of you will get land of your own. But how much you get will depend on your deeds in battle."

"You coward, Tevel!"

Someone kicked him: hard. It was Andreas, the man who had once served as a knight's personal attendant. "Tevel, we all swore an oath to serve the lord together. If you break it, we won't forgive you, and when you die, you'll burn in the fire, mark my words!"

Tevel's face was the picture of misery. "I — I wasn't trying to break my oath! I was only asking. I just… prefer farming."

Lothar pulled him to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with preferring farming. Once I have a fief, you can devote yourself to figuring out how to increase the grain yield. For now, let's go see the home His Majesty has given us."

"You've all worked hard on the road these past days. The manor is called Constance. My father chose the name. Perhaps because my uncle once served as Archbishop of Konstanz."

On the way back, Lothar pulled Laine and Modell aside.

"We have a base now. That means we can start recruiting and training troops. Laine, Modell, I'm putting this in your hands. Remember: our six male followers will be the backbone."

He lowered his voice. "Give Tevel another chance. If he truly isn't suited to soldiering, let him farm."

"When you select men-at-arms, judge them on one thing only: ability."

Their present condition mattered little. Anyone who had reached the Holy Land on foot possessed a sound constitution beneath the hunger and exhaustion. Even the scrawniest would recover once they were fed properly.

He didn't care about loyalty, either. True, absolute loyalty was impossible without deploying certain ideas that were far ahead of their time. But the faith, the laws, and the moral norms of this age were more than enough to guarantee a baseline of loyalty from troops he trained himself.

"An illiterate man can never rise above a junior officer. Recruit mainly Germans. If they can't understand each other, there won't be any fighting strength to speak of."

Jerusalem was short of many things, but unemployed pilgrims were not among them. The pool of candidates was large.

"And we have to move fast. Put up notices tomorrow that we're recruiting pilgrim men-at-arms. The kingdom itself is about to arm pilgrims to defend the Holy Land. We have to pick out the best men before anyone else does. Remember what I told you: make generous promises."

Lothar paused, a touch rueful. "Our purse is still thin. We can't offer much in the way of real terms. Promises are what we have."

Laine and Modell both nodded vigorously. They understood well enough, though they thought of it simply as making commitments.

"Fifty men, no more. Every one of them must have armor—leather, lamellar, or scale, it makes no difference. Each man also gets a hide-covered shield and a spear fitted with a fine iron head."

"For the purchases, go to Andreas: the one who used to be a knight's attendant. He studied at a church school for two years and knows how to deal with those sly merchants."

After all, Count Werner had only ever maintained a hundred men-at-arms, and he was a count. Lothar had no intention of overreaching. Fifty would be more than enough; it was already a force most knights could only dream of.

"Hans and I will be visiting Baron Godfrey's holdings soon. I'm leaving all of this to the two of you. Make sure it's done well."

He paused, then added the promise: "If you handle this properly, each of you will command a squad. You'll be officers."

Their faces lit up at once.

"We won't disappoint you, my lord."

Lothar nodded. He ran through his mind, searching for anything he might have forgotten to tell them. For the mission into enemy territory, he planned to bring only his System-granted Retainers: four of them, he supposed, since he hadn't yet used his newest Card Draw.

"Ah, one more thing. When I get back, I'll teach you some simple drills. They'll focus on making soldiers obey orders instantly. You can decide for yourselves whether to use them."

He meant to teach them the basics of military drill: formation training. Some things, like marching in order and responding to commands, were always useful for forging discipline, no matter the era.