As I waited for a reply from Erengrad, I was busy looking over surveying reports and maps from the time when Chebekov was founded in the aftermath of the defeat of Asavar Kul some 100 some odd years ago. There had been a Dwarven surveying team going over the area during the rebuilding of the country. Some of them still lived in the Dwarf Quarter of Erengrad. I was hoping to find some sort of resources in my lands that I could leverage to help build up Chebekov's economy. I found out that on our side of the Blight there were several sites where peat, bog iron, and sulfur. I realized that some of the peat deposits were actually being exploited by several small villages, but not on an economic scale. It would take labor and funds, but I could expand those villages into properly exploiting the deposits there, though I would likely have to station troops there in order to defend the expanded settlements from brigands, beastmen, and greenskins from further into the Blight. Beyond that, the Grovod Wood was a good place for lumber camps and fur trapping, though I would have to curtail the latter some to not draw the ire of the Priesthood of Ursun. They liked hunting, but commercial fur trapping might be a step too far for them to be comfortable with. The Grovod Wood would also provide a source of Charcoal. Finally to the north, up near the border of Troll Country, there were a few hills that the dwarven survey teams reported as having signs of copper, granite, and iron.
I briefly wondered why none of this was ever exploited, but then thought back to what I knew of the nobility of Kislev. Rebuilding had gone at a fever pitch for a couple of decades after the Battle at the Gates of Kislev, helped along by the Dwarves, and by Magnus the Pious wanting to aid his allies. However, once Praag was rebuilt and enough of the Oblasts resettled to feel at least somewhat secure the Tzar of the time, Tzar Mikhail Alexivich lost interest in rebuilding the Oblasts and turned his attention instead to his many mistresses. That left the powerful Boyars in command of the Oblasts to do as they will, and many of them only looked after their own lands unless they could scheme to take land off of their neighbors through intrigue. With the Boyars running wild in the Oblast Capitols and the Tzars incapable of reigning them in, it was no wonder that funds had not been made available to a regional Boyar like the one who ruled over Chebekov to exploit potential minerals. Erengrad wouldn't want any of its vassal Boyars to get too rich, after all.
Now, however, I had a shot as I was of the same dynasty as the Ruler of Erengrad. Surely the father wanted the son to do well? Combined with the temporary boom in trade with Ostland as they looked towards Kislev to provide resources that Dieter IV in Buln would not, I might just have a shot at getting some of those minerals out of the ground. My only concern was that the northern hills were just across the River Tobol from the Rose Ruins. The Dwarven surveying crews would only report that those ruins showed traces of Gnomish inhabitation that had been wiped out along with the rest of the Gnomish Civilization centuries ago. I briefly tried to recall everything I could of Gnomes, but they were 1st edition Lore and not really expounded upon except that they were slightly taller and thinner than dwarves and that they were more cerebral than Dwarves, who they regarded as uncivilized. I think there was something about them being capable of illusion magic in there as well? Regardless, if they were more advanced than Dwarves, and Dwarves had steampunk Gyrocopters and stuff, I probably didn't want work crews going into one of their ruined settlements and poking around. That would only lead to bad things.
As I planned for the future, setting aside gold for the opening of an Iron mine in the North, a Sulfur Mine in the east, and a lumber camp in the South, I discovered that I had spent the past 48 hours pretty much stuck in endless planning meetings and hadn't really had time to work on my own skills. That was something that would have to be remedied. I headed down to the courtyard to try and practice my Sabre some. I'd been a decent hand at Polish Sabre in my previous life, having done HEMA all through high school and college, though honestly, I was better at German Longsword than I was at Polish Sabre. Still, when in Kislev do as the Kiselvites do, I suppose. I could probably lean on some of Tadeusz's muscle memory to fill in the gaps. I hoped anyway.
I reached the courtyard where I saw Captain Mikolaj drilling a few of my household guards. They weren't exactly Droyaska, as they had been trained primarily to fight with Halberds on foot or lance from horseback and as they were put through their paces by Captain Mikolaj I could see that some of them were middling to decent swordsmen, but most were only middling, with only one giant of a man showing true talent. Decided to try my hand at sword practice, I walked up and unsheathed my blade. "Anyone care for a round in the sparring ring?" I asked.
My guardsmen hesitated, protecting me was their one job. I could see them calculating the risks of whether or not they would get in trouble if they hurt their Lord in a spar. I decided to put them at ease. "I promise you that I won't take it personally if you beat me. I am trying to improve my ability here after all." I said, giving what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
A murmur went through my guardsmen before one of them stepped forwards. "I will fight, my Lord." He said. He was the giant of a man, with a bald head and a drooping mustache, clad in a coat of scale armor. The one I had recognized as having true talent for swordsmanship out of the batch of guards currently training. His weapon wasn't the standard Gospodar Sabre, but the Ungol Scimitar, which to my eye looked a bit like a Mongolian Dao, its blade had more width and was curved deeper.
"What's your name Guardsman?" I asked.
"I am Otabeg, my Lord." Replied the man.
"An Ungol, I figured as much with that Scimitar. Well, it is nice to meet you Otabeg, I hope to learn from our bout." I replied as I took up a stance.
For his part, Otabeg didn't wait for me to come to him as he lashed out with a whirling cut of his scimitar which I parried with my Sabre. He advanced and rather than be bowled over by this giant of a man, I sidestepped and sent a cut of my own at him. Otabeg simply whirled around, scale coat not even slowing him down and my slash missed him by a hair's breadth. He came out of his spin and pressed forwards with a cross-cut that I parried and returned. That sent us into a pattern of cross-cuts and parries. I was having to lean more and more on muscle memory from Tadeusz to stay in the fight, as none of the bouts I had participated in during my previous life had been against someone quite this good. He advanced again and I was forced to retreat, parrying a cut at my head as I did so. Had I not been wearing a helmet for sparring purposes that could have easily been the end of me, but as it was I managed to get my blade up in time. As I tried to strike out at his legs to try and break his rhythm, he managed to leap over my cut and force me to retreat with a riposte, now that my blade was out of position to intercept his. I was rapidly coming to the end of what muscle memory from Tadeusz could do. The man was a good swordsman, but not as good as Otabeg it seemed. We ranged around some more, him advancing and throwing cuts at me that I just barely parried or got out of the way from before I found myself backed up against a stack of barrelled off to the side of the courtyard. I had one shot at coming out on top here, otherwise, I was going to have to yield. I ducked aside from a cut aimed at my left shoulder as Otabeg's scimitar sunk into the wooden side of one of the barrels. I took my shot at him now, rushing forwards as he tried to clear his scimitar from the wood. I had hoped to be able to win the bout winning blow with this, but Otabeg managed to not only spin out of the way of my lunging cut, but pivot on his front foot and use the momentum of his spin to clear his scimitar from the wooden barrel. I rolled forwards coming up just in time to see Otabeg complete his own spin and take up a guard.
"I yield, you are better at this than me. Where did you learn all that?" I asked.
"My father was a Droyaska who traveled with a caravan to far Cathay. While there he learned some of the footwork that their acrobats and martial artists practiced and spent a few years incorporating it into his swordsmanship. When I came of age to carry a weapon, he taught me. This was a decade ago now." Replied Otabeg.
"Well, you are wasted as a guardsman. If you're willing, I'd like to promote you to my personal sword instructor." I replied, impressed.
"I am willing, but does the position come with a pay raise? What I am paid now barely keeps me in Kvas and meat." Asked Otabeg.
I laughed at that and reassured him that yes it does. From there, we headed off into the Krepost to shuck off armor, wash, and head off to get some food. Over lunch, I managed to learn a bit more about my new companion. Otabeg's father had come back from Cathay and had used his new enhanced swordsmanship to defeat several challengers, including a Sarl Warlord who had been raiding the Roppsmen of Leblya, one of the very few actual settlements in Troll Country. The Hetman of Lebyla had been impressed enough with his skills to reward his father with the hand of his daughter in Marriage. In a way, that made Otabeg the heir to the leadership of the Settlement. When I pointed that out, he got a look on his face and said, "I am heir to nothing." Before changing the subject.
After that, we mostly chatted about the state of this part of the Western Oblast. North of Erengrad, most of the settlements were either villages or towns with no actual cities to speak of. Most of the large population centers in Western Oblast were in the South. Erengrad was obviously a large city, but there were a number of smaller cities and large towns that dotted the land between Erengrad and the border of the Southern Oblast. These were mostly towns that were along the Imperial Border and could get fat off of trade with the Empire or were ports on the River Lynsk and its tributaries. The two major towns north of Erengrad were us in Chebekov and our neighbors to the east in Pradeshynya. We were better off than Pradeshynya, mostly because the bulk of the Blight was on their side of the border, but we weren't exactly wealthy like the more southern parts of the Oblast. As we ate, we kicked around ideas as to why that might be. Otabeg figured it was a combination of the looming threat of Troll Country and the possibility of Norscan Raiders deciding Erengrad was too large of a Port to sack, but that Chebekov might just be more their speed. Indeed, Norscan raiders had to be fought off just 20 years ago, and the former lord of Chebekov had taken a wound to the thigh in the fighting that had made him lame and unable to have children. In part that was sort of how my father was able to install me as the new Lord of Chebekov after his passing last year. He had no heirs.
I on the other hand figured it was something else. A lot of the Boyars had let economic opportunities slip out of their grasp if they didn't directly involve them. I'd figured that out earlier, but it seemed that there had been a general malaise to grip Kislev after the Great War Against Chaos. Sure the country had rebuilt to an extent, but it had grown stagnant afterward. With a succession of Weak Tzars that would continue for another 90 years if nothing was done about it. If things proceeded as they had in canon, with the malaise and stagnant thinking lasting until Boris woke the country up, it would be too late to fully reverse the decline and Archaeon would wipe out Kislev. I would have to do something to start that reversal earlier and hope that the extra time building back up would be enough.
Thankfully the first steps towards that reversal would come soon. About an hour after I finished lunch with Otabeg, I received a letter from my father some 3 days after I sent it off, to begin with. The Dwarven smith Urist Malkisson, his brother the Engineer Snorri, their cousin, the miner Burlok Gormsson, and their families would all be traveling to Chebekov to set up new workshops. Apparently, my father thought my request for a smith needed a little something extra to be completed. Now I had a small clan of dwarves coming to what was effectively just a medium-sized town to start-up workshops and maybe a mine or two. I should be overjoyed at my fortune, but all I could really think was how to keep the Dwarves in beer while they were here.
After all, I doubted that they would enjoy Kvas