As he watched the bonfire burn.
Suleiman thought of many other important, troublesome matters.
Agriculture, animal husbandry, and fishing.
The population in his territory had surged, and food was scarce. With the entire territory mobilized, nearly all the land had been left fallow, so he couldn't count on this year's harvest.
Almost all their food had to be bought from outside. If the surrounding lords joined forces to cut off their supplies, the consequences would be unimaginable. Although his people were wealthy, there weren't enough markets in the territory for them to spend their money.
"Lord Suleiman!" A soldier hurried over, interrupting his thoughts, then pointed toward the camp entrance.
Suleiman looked up in the direction the soldier indicated.
An old man was walking slowly toward them, accompanied by only two attendants. He seemed out of place in the camp, which had taken on a grim air at the arrival of an outsider.
The old man was thin, and time had carved deep lines into his face. His dark blue cloak had faded from many washings, and the scabbard of the longsword at his waist had been polished until it gleamed. He looked like a meticulous man.
He walked slowly but steadily, his eyes sweeping over the camp's fierce-looking soldiers. A look of astonishment came over him.
Suleiman recognized him. He remembered the old man as a friend of his father, both of them vassals under House Deddings. He went to meet him and bowed slightly. "Lord Yorks."
Lord Yorks stopped and studied the young man before him. Seemingly pleased with his manner, he gave him a warm smile. "Young Suleiman."
The old man gestured for him to join him. "Shall we talk as we walk?"
Suleiman signaled for Lushen and Bryn, who had started to rise and follow, to