The old man’s declaration that others would come to his signal proved true within the hour, just as Dominic was finishing with his efforts at helping the new arrivals assemble their yurt for extra space.
A rider on an oversized plow horse, wearing a patched but formerly quality coat, approached the farmhouse, which now had a fire going in the fireplace, giving off a small plume of smoke to show its occupancy.
"Hail to the rider." Dominic called, stepping outside to meet him.
"Hail to the Lord. Did you set up the flare?" The rider replied.
Dominic shook his head.
"No, the family patriarch of my new sharecroppers did. I am Dominic Wavemates, Duke of Wistover, where you are standing now. Are you travelling with a group?" Dominic asked.
The rider nodded. "We have fifty refugees from near Causter. Farm folk, looking to escape the aftermath of the war. Are we in Cygnia now?"
Dominic nodded. "You are. If you’ve got skilled tradesmen and farmers, we welcome them. Woodcutters and huntsmen as well."
The rider smiled, showing teeth yellowed by years of smoking.
"Well, that is excellent news. I don’t suppose this little estate of yours has any security?"
"Other than a Lord Sorcerer and a Company of Royal Paladins? Only a few household guards."
The exchange brought out the old man from inside the house, and the rider’s attitude immediately changed.
"General Alator! You are alive. I thought that you had fallen during the battle of Causter." He declared, hopping off his horse.
"You foolish brat. You heard him say that he’s a Wavemates Duke, and you’re still thinking of having your so-called refugees try to rob him? That dragonkin alone would kill every one of you without taking a wound." The old man raged.
The rider looked sheepish, and Dominic shrugged. The old man wasn’t wrong.
And now Dominic was not eager to let just anyone move in.
"Your Grace, forgive my mistake, this guardsman knows he was wrong. The Resistance lives, and we are at your service." The younger man pleaded, falling to his knees and bowing flat to the ground at Dominic’s feet.
"So, you’ve been resorting to banditry as you travel?" Dominic asked.
"Your Grace, forgive us. The Duke of Causter burned everything when the Cygnia Army approached. Our people were desperate."
"Bring them here, and I will judge them. If I think that they can reform, I will let them settle here. If not, they will move along. That’s as much mercy as I’m willing to show, even for local resistance men." Dominic replied.
"Are you truly a Wavemates? No, you must be, with horns like that. How did you become a Duke? Did you claim it for yourself?" The rider asked.
"I was given the title as a reward for contributions during the war. It’s a legitimate Cygnia Noble title. However, what they didn’t grant me was a population of locals.
I’m not afraid to weed out the bad elements, but I will grant a single chance for those who want to live an honest life." Dominic relented.
He got the feeling that this was going to be more hassle than it was worth. But what were a few dead bandits in the grand scheme of things? If he sorted the honest from the dishonest here, the cities further downstream into Cygnia would thank him.
But there was no need to mention that.
While they were talking, a young man on foot ran up to where they were standing, silhouetted against the night sky.
"Someone set the guard flare? Did you find a friendly Lord? Are we into Cygnia?" He asked.
Dominic nodded. "Yes, and yes. As long as your people are honest, we have honest work and homes available. I am Dominic Wavemates, Duke of Wistover."
The man gave him a military salute and bowed politely.
"Your Grace, greetings. I am Guard Captain Omar Khalil of Causman. I have my entire clan with me. The Duke of Causter stripped us of our wealth and properties, but my family has many skilled men, and labourers to work our estate." He replied.
Dominic shook his hand. "Bring your family here. We will work out an arrangement. If they are truly capable, I can set them to work forty acres, and if there are too many of you for one farmhouse, I can offer a family compound in town as well."
"Thank you, Your Grace. I can see that Captain Bass has offended you, but I can vouch that before the fall of Causter, he was a reliable member of the Resistance, and a good man." Captain Khalil replied.
Dominic sighed. "I have reservations. But I will give you all a chance. You said you had fifty farmers from near Causter, right? Split them by families, and I will determine how much land they can feasibly work.
I will offer assistance in that if necessary. We have one tractor at the house, but there should be equipment at all the houses if you have animals."
The Captain knelt again. "Thank you, Your Grace. I promise we will prove ourselves to you. I will bring my group here first thing in the morning."
Captain Khalil nodded. "Mine are closer, just over the ridge in the trees. I waited to see who would answer the call before I moved. We have one steam tractor with us, but it’s currently in need of repairs. I don’t suppose you have a steamsmith?"
Dominic chuckled. His men were already into the overgrown farmland, and had likely been foraging for food from the wild crops when the flare went up.
"I have some experience as a steamsmith, but we have a Master Smith with us as well. I am certain that we can get your tractor working again. Is it a larger model?" Dominic asked.
The Captain nodded. "It is. Close to state-of-the-art ten years ago."
"Perfect. Then your family can likely work enough land to make a good living for themselves, beyond subsistence. This area doesn’t get much foot travel most of the time, but we can work to change that once we have goods to trade to market.
There is another hour or so before full dark, and there is a family compound that you can stay the night at. It should be suitable to move everyone into." Dominic replied.
"Thank you, Your Grace. We will be back soon."