Chapter 342 - 246: Route to the East (2)

"Oh, so he was a servant. For a moment, I thought my father was a Heretic. As I recall, Count Odo has a Slav slave, does he not? Don’t tell me Count Odo is also in league with the Slavic Heretics from the Baltic Sea?" Eric said with a laugh.

"Gentlemen, please, cease this pointless bickering. I have never questioned your loyalty, and I do not wish to hear such disputes again." Robert waved his hand, signaling for them to stop. "Eric, about the fleet’s anchorage..."

"My uncle is willing to aid Your Majesty’s cause in marching to the East to liberate the Holy City. The fleet may receive free supplies at any port along the coast of Sicily Island. He is even willing to donate one thousand pounds to your endeavor.

But..."

"But what?" Robert asked.

"He asks that Your Majesty promise the army will confine its activities to a certain area around the Sicilian ports. He will assign local officials to provide lodging and free food for your soldiers, and he requests that you restrain your men from entering the residential districts of the cities."

"It seems your uncle is wary of us," Robert said with a smile.

"My uncle’s forces on Sicily Island are rather thin. As my father’s vassal, he must dispatch a portion of his Knights to support my father’s foolish campaign against the Greek Empire. Furthermore, his subjects include a number of Heretics, so his rule is not entirely secure," Eric said.

"No matter. We shouldn’t be staying in Sicily for long anyway." Robert shrugged.

Just as Robert was about to ask something else, he heard a clamor nearby. It sounded like a large crowd.

Robert shouted to a chamberlain nearby, "Go and see what’s happening."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The chamberlain spurred his horse and galloped away.

A short while later, the chamberlain returned, reporting to Robert, "Your Majesty, a group of villagers has gathered ahead. It seems they wish to present a petition to you. The Forester is blocking their way."

"A petition? Let’s go and see." Robert waved to Eric and the Barons behind him, and the party headed toward the source of the commotion.

A group of villagers was gathered at the edge of the Forest, shouting loudly.

"Let us see the King!"

"We want to see the King!"

"I want to appeal to the King’s court!"

"Appeal! Appeal!"

"..."

They clamored, but made no aggressive moves, despite holding weapons like pitchforks and hammers—a clear sign of their original intent.

They had only abandoned the thought because the Forester and a group of fully-armored Knights stood blocking their path.

So they had resorted to shouting, hoping to attract the attention of the King, who was deeper within the Forest.

"Damn you, insolent peasants! Today is the King’s hunt! How dare you be so audacious! Get the hell out of here, now!" The Forester, mounted on his horse, lashed out with his whip, striking the villager nearest to him.

The villager’s head was split open and bleeding, but still, he did not retreat.

The man had his arms wrapped around a tree trunk. Two soldiers were trying to pull him away, his lower body dangling in the air, but he refused to let go.

"We want to see the King!" the villager yelled defiantly.

A pack of hunting hounds soon burst from the Forest, barking fiercely at the villagers.

The snarling hounds and their baying quickly quieted the scene. It was not the dogs themselves that were fearsome, but the Royal Family crest they bore that struck awe into the crowd.

The Forester immediately stopped his whipping and ordered his soldiers to back away from the villager at once.

Moments later, the royal banner came into view. The King appeared on horseback, accompanied by his retinue and members of the Nobility, coming to a stop before the crowd.

"What is going on here?" Robert asked, pulling on the reins of his Warhorse.

"Your Majesty, it’s noth—" The Forester hastily dismounted and started toward Robert, but was stopped short before he could reach him.

"I was not asking you," Robert said, raising his riding crop and pointing it toward the villagers. "I am asking *you*."

The villagers looked at one another in silence. Moments before, their shouts had been full of vigor, but now they were all quiet.

The villager whom the Forester had beaten until his head bled now clutched his wound, stepped before Robert, and knelt.

"Your Majesty, we are villagers from the nearby hamlets. We have come to petition you. We know this Forest is yours, but the land of our villages is poor, and we depend on the Forest to survive.

The forest laws your father established are suffocating us.

He forbids us to pass through your Forest, to prevent any harm to the property of the Royal Forest. But the Royal Forest is vast, forcing us to take long detours to reach places that were once only a short distance away.

He protects the game so zealously that anyone who kills a buck or a doe is to have their eyes gouged out, or even be castrated.

He decreed that the hare should go free. He loved the stags and boars as if he were their own father, yet his subjects shiver in the cold Winter winds. Our children and elders are desperate for warmth but are forbidden from taking so much as a single, paltry twig for firewood.

The Forester you appointed is a man of no honor, and he exploits us mercilessly.

The man is despicable. He claims the firewood we gather from outside the Royal Forest is your property and uses this as a pretext to extort us.

He holds your honor in contempt, brazenly shooting our pack animals as they haul our goods, yet never takes responsibility or even offers an explanation. Not even Cultivators are spared his abuse.

He abuses your courts, forcing us to abandon our fieldwork and summoning us all merely to investigate the death of a single rabbit. When it was found to have died of plague, he was still not satisfied. He used the pretext that not all of us had attended his court to impose a fine upon us."