Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The Relief Knights (2)
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The mercenaries accepted my proposal.
There was some concern that the venomous Anton wouldn't pass up an opportunity to overturn the existing contract, but that was something I could handle well enough on my own.
The remaining problem was how to persuade Gunther.
That, too, wasn't much of an issue.
Setting aside matters of face and dignity, Gunther was a man quite faithful to the chivalric code.
“When the Master comes down, act as pitiful as possible and say what I told you to.”
“That’s easy enough.”
With the main business settled, a drinking party broke out.
The innkeeper, a happy look on his face, kept bringing out wine.
Wahahaha.
Kekeke.
Watching the mercenaries, who were already drinking boisterously, I picked up the glass in front of me.
Hmm.
I quietly savored the aroma.
As is typical of things consumed by mercenaries who prefer quantity over quality, the wine in my glass was the worst of the worst, heavily diluted with water to increase its volume.
But the distinct aroma of alcohol remained, and I savored its sharp scent.
How long has it been since I last had a drink?
*Gulp.*
My mouth watered.
‘You should be seeking out only the finest things, and yet… alcohol? Have you lost your mind?’
‘Is your body such trash that you think it can't be ruined any further? You're worse than a monkey.’
It caught in my throat.
‘What am I supposed to do? If I don't do this, the smell of blood will never fade.’
‘Weakling! Do you think getting drunk makes what happened disappear?!’
‘But…’
‘You must bear it! Carry it with you! If you don't like it, then put down your sword and leave!’
A memory surfaced unexpectedly.
“Damn it.”
As if by magic, my taste for the drink vanished.
As I quietly set down my glass and just stared at it, the mercenaries, who had been excitedly drinking, asked.
“Why aren't you drinking? Is our young esquire too young for alcohol?”
“That's not it.”
“Then why…? Are you perhaps suspicious of us…?”
“Worried we might have slipped something in it?”
“We're not that low. This is quite disappointing.”
The mercenaries, finally noticing me just glaring at the glass on the table, grumbled one by one.
“I'm abstaining while on duty.”
I couldn't very well tell them it was because of some person's voice that kept popping into my head, so I gave a vague excuse and gestured for them to enjoy themselves.
The mercenaries quickly shed their disappointed looks and began to carouse again.
“Being an esquire seems like a thankless job. How about switching to being a mercenary? I'd treat you real well.”
“Why? So you can take him in as the rookie and work him to the bone?”
“And maybe fix that snarky way of talking while we're at it.”
“Dream on. Not interested.”
After trading some lighthearted retorts to Garon's pathetic provocations, I waited for a long while for Gunther to come down.
“It's noisy.”
Just then, Gunther's voice came from the stairs leading to the second floor.
Having been waiting for him to return, I shot up to greet him.
“…Who are you?”
But the Beggar Knight I'd been waiting for was gone, and in his place stood a well-groomed man.
“An esquire who can't even recognize his master's face. What an insolent brat.”
“Master?”
I was dumbfounded.
That's the Beggar Knight?
His face, now clearly visible after he'd bathed and trimmed his hair and beard, was serious and composed.
His skin, once so covered in dirt and dust that its original color was a mystery, was fair, without a hint of a tan.
Overall, he gave off a pious impression, more like a monk than a knight.
“Master, you weren't an old man?”
“…Hmph. I'm just thirty, still in my prime, you brat.”
Gunther, whom I had assumed was at least in his fifties, was surprisingly a fresh-faced man in his thirties.
“…Master, you must have been through a lot.”
“…”
At the sight of his appearance—younger than I'd thought, but still looking far older than his actual age—the words slipped out before I could stop them.
Gunther frowned, sat down across from me, and gestured toward the mercenaries with his eyes.
“Ah. Those men are…”
The mercenaries, who had been waiting for an opening, swarmed over.
“Please accept us!”
Gunther's eyes widened at the sudden plea.
“We are the mercenaries of the Forsaken Dogs mercenary company…”
And so it began.
“I lost my parents at the tender age of six and had to join the workforce to feed my younger siblings…”
“I grew up with a father who would beat me whenever he got drunk, and to this day…”
“After being framed and kicked out of the city guard, my world went dark…”
A series of heart-wrenching stories, impossible to hear without shedding a tear, followed.
“No. I mean, why are you telling me all this…?”
Gunther, who had been listening blankly to their tales, finally spoke up.
“Please let us stand under your banner!”
“We're all going to die as sword-fodder!”
“Please, just take us in for this subjugation!”
The mercenaries shouted in response.
***
“Hngh. I suppose there's no helping it.”
In the end, the persuasion was a success.
Whether it was because the mercenaries' depressing stories got to him, or because he calculated that he'd be treated better with subordinates than alone, I couldn't say.
In any case, the important thing was that Gunther was on board.
Something about not causing any trouble while under his command.
Something about not expecting any help on the battlefield.
And something about this being strictly temporary, as he was in no position to actually take anyone in.
A few other minor conditions were attached, but anyway.
It was now time to address the finer details.
“But the Giftrang family is a renowned house in the Empire. I'm not sure what difference adding my name to the roster will make.”
Just then, Gunther hit on the core of the issue.
The reason a house like Giftrang would recruit outside forces when they already have their own elite troops was always the same.
To put it nicely, it was to prepare for any contingency with adaptable mercenaries and freelance knights. To put it bluntly, it was to use them as cannon fodder.
Would it be any different for Gunther and me?
Though they were a branch family, from the perspective of the Giftrangs, who had a famous main house behind them, a wandering knight and a group of mercenaries would both look equally insignificant.
If there was any difference, it was between cheap cannon fodder and slightly more expensive cannon fodder.
I couldn't be sure, but we probably wouldn't even be included in meetings and would be stuck with all the dirty work.
“A banner. We'll raise a banner.”
In response, I presented the solution I'd been thinking of.
“A banner, you say.”
Gunther fell into thought.
A banner was nothing less than the symbol of a knight with independent command authority, one who could fly a standard bearing his own coat of arms.
In other words, I was suggesting we join the subjugation not as soldiers who had to fight as ordered, but in a position where we could contribute our opinions to or even interfere in the formulation of tactics.
Of course, the Giftrang family wouldn't treat us as true Knight Bannerets just because we had a few mercenaries, but if we could at least get our command recognized and a seat at the meetings, that would be half the battle.
At the very least, we could buy time to prepare for contingencies based on the discussions held there.
They would benefit from having a shield to protect them from being treated as cannon fodder, and we would benefit from being treated not as a simple wandering knight, but as a banner knight commanding his own, albeit small, force.
Isn't this the very definition of a proper cooperative relationship, as described in the code of chivalry?
The problem was.
“You may not know this, but only certain knights are permitted to raise a banner. And unfortunately, I am not one of them.”
Imperial law strictly forbids a knight who has not received a title from arbitrarily raising a banner.
As things stood, the most Gunther could do was fly a triangular pennon from his spear tip, not the square, formal banner permitted by convention.
And a house of Giftrang's stature wouldn't bat an eye at such an informal pennon.
“I have an idea.”
But there was a solution for that, too.
That is, if Gunther trusted me and delegated full authority.
“Hmm.”
Gunther was sparing with his words.
It was only natural. If the one to whom he delegated authority caused some unfortunate incident, he would have to bear the full responsibility.
It was something he wouldn't easily grant even to an esquire who had shared life and death with him.
Moreover, at this point, Gunther and I had known each other for a mere six months.
There was no way he would grant an authority that could end his career and honor with just a few words.
And yet. That was certainly the norm, but.
“Sometimes you're like a swaggering thug, and other times like a worldly, worn-out merchant.”
Gunther's reaction was strange.
“Right now, you seem like a schemer plotting behind a dark curtain.”
Gunther, whom I expected to show displeasure even if he didn't scold me,
“This constant upping of the stakes is audacious, but,”
was actually smiling.
“you have a way of making one feel expectant.”
Expectant of what?
What kind of nonsense was this?
“That must be why they, too, are clinging to a child like you.”
That was only because our interests aligned.
I couldn't think of anything to say to correct his misunderstanding.
“Fine. It's just a name. There's no reason I can't lend it to you.”
Permission was granted far more easily than I'd expected.
“I've never desired paltry worldly honors, nor have I ever held them in my hand. Which is to say, I have nothing to lose now.”
I told him to wash his body, but had he taken out his eyes and washed them, too? As he spoke, Gunther's eyes were needlessly clear and transparent.
“So go ahead. Ruin it or sell it off, do as you please.”
I was flustered.
“I'll play along.”
I hadn't even uttered a single one of the numerous justifications and persuasive arguments that had come to mind.
“What would you have me do?”
To his question, asked with a faint smile, I…
“Uh, um.”
spilled out all the words that had been in my head.
***
“…You again?”
Seeing me at the guild again, Anton jumped as if he'd seen a ghost.
“I think we need to renegotiate the contract.”
The moment I stated my business, Anton's expression changed.
“You've taken in the Forsaken Dogs mercenary company?”
“What about his experience as a commander?”
“How will he control those rough mercenaries?”
“And also…”
He brought up every conceivable issue.
It was just as I'd expected.
Anton saw this renegotiation as a chance to recoup his previous losses.
He was trying to lump in the existing contract and drive down the terms.
“Crucially, Knight Gunther has never been granted a banner, has he?”
A look of triumph appeared on Anton's face, as if he were looking at cornered prey.
He seemed quite confident in the petty advantage he held.
“According to Imperial law, there are exceptional cases where a knight without a title can raise a banner. Are you aware of them?”
“Of course. You think someone working at the guild wouldn't know that much?”
If one is representing a house or organization whose status is officially recognized by the Imperial Household, it is possible to raise a proper banner regardless of rank.
It's an item clearly specified in Imperial law.
“So, which house's banner are you planning to fly? It can't possibly be the Giftrang family's, can it?”
But Anton sneered, as if to ask what that had to do with anything.
“Why do you think the Giftrang family is the only option?”
“Because Giftrang is the only one around here with that authority?”
“No. There should be one more.”
“…?”
Besides the Giftrang family, there was one other such place in this area.
An organization formally sanctioned by the Imperial Household, with the authority to dispatch independent units.
“The Freelance Knight Guild.”
At my words, Anton's eyes went wide, then he let out a snort.
“Why would the guild do that?”
His expression and tone seemed to ask what the guild had to gain from lending its banner to a bunch of wanderers.
Instead of answering, I shrugged.
He'd find out soon enough anyway; no need to waste my breath explaining it now.
Aigo. Aigo.
The citizens of the Empire are all going to die!
Hearing the voice from outside, Anton frowned.
“What's with all this damned wailing?”
He muttered irritably, stood up, and headed out of the office. I followed him.
“Ugh, why are there so many beggars?”
Outside the office was a crowd of beggars and boys from the slums.
“Please, help us!”
Seeing Anton, the beggars and boys rushed toward him.
“Why are you damn beggars causing a ruckus here! Get lost!”
Anton was disgusted, but they paid him no mind, grabbing his trousers and clinging to him.
“We can't live because of the bandits!”
“Please do something about them!”
Anton kicked away the persistently clinging beggars and yelled.
“So why are you making a scene here?!”
“Well, something about the guild? They said the guild has to do it?”
Watching quietly, I took a step forward and asked.
“*Ahem*. I believe you're referring to the Relief Knight System.”
At my words, the beggar holding Anton's trousers, Sasha, clapped his hands in agreement.
“That's it! Relief… Refuge… something like that! That's the one! They said there was a system for it!”
Hah. Good acting.
A look of dismay appeared on Anton's face as he watched the beggars, spittle flying, chanting for a relief knight.
It seemed he had finally remembered.
The one and only reason the Imperial Household hadn't checked the guild's growth, and the sole justification that allowed these beasts, unbound by worldly vows, to roam the world freely.
That was the Relief Knight System.
The guild, as representatives of the freelance knights, had a duty to aid citizens in peril.
Though it was a law so obsolete that few even knew of it, now that it had been brought to the surface, it couldn't be completely ignored.
In my past life, the guild was actually swayed back and forth throughout the Great War because of this duty of relief, and in the end, it collapsed.
I watched it happen from right beside them.
As the esquire to a certain relief knight, who fought under the guild's banner until the very end.
“Hey. There are too many people here. Let us through. We're on official business.”
While Anton stood there, his lips sealed in silence, another figure appeared.
“Oh! Anton! Good, you're out here!”
It was a man in a guard's uniform, the soldier Pelon.
“What's the day patrol doing here at this hour?”
“This is an order from my captain, so listen carefully.”
Pelon abruptly pulled a piece of paper from his tunic and began to read.
“‘The recent activities of the bandits have become alarming. I wish I could lead the guard out myself, but I am bound by my duties and can only lament my inability to do so.’”
Pelon paused here, cleared his throat with a dry cough, and continued.
“‘Therefore, the guild shall act in my stead and chastise the bandits disturbing the vicinity.’”
“Wait. What is this…?”
“Relief? Didn't the guild promise the Imperial Household they'd dispatch knights at times like this? No? I'm sure that's what I heard.”
“No! Who in the world is spreading such stories!”
Anton was reeling.
“That's not for you to know. Anyway, listen to me carefully. If the guild doesn't step up, it puts us in a very difficult position. Our loyalty is being tested right now.”
After all the favors we've done for you, it'd be a problem if you played dumb.
Anton groaned under the subtle pressure.
“No. I mean, everyone was quiet, so why now of all times…”
Muttering with a confused look on his face, he suddenly snapped his mouth shut.
“Don't tell me…?”
The sudden appearance of the band of beggars and slum boys, the timely arrival of the guard captain's message.
“Did you really…?”
The look on his face as he stared at me in shock was as if he'd been struck hard on the back of the head.
He seemed to have finally realized who had orchestrated this sudden and childish charade.
“So. Does the guild have the capacity?”
Ignoring him, I asked with feigned concern.
“If not, we could help.”
As it happens, we're in need of a banner to fly,
and you're in need of someone to carry that banner into battle.
It's the way of the world for people in need to help each other.
Of course, in the process, the more desperate party has to give something to the less desperate one, but isn't that also the way of the world?