Chapter 51: Borrowed Knife to Kill
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 51: Borrowed Knife to Kill
Bwooo—
The horn signaling our departure for battle rang out. The contingent of troops gathered before the castle gate began to move.
Piole and I led the troops from the front, followed by Segerik's vassals and their forces.
At the tail end of the column were carts loaded with supplies, the soldiers guarding them, and even war merchants and prostitutes. Including them, our numbers reached a staggering one hundred and fifty.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The moment we passed through the castle gate, Bolton rode his horse up beside me.
"We must at least retake the Twin Towers to prove this expedition isn't meaningless."
To understand the Twin Towers, one must first know about the Rhine River, the lifeblood of the continent's southeast.
Originating from the great mountain range to the north, the river flowed through a corner of the baron's territory, making it a strategic chokepoint for water transport to Dresden and Quaran.
Furthermore, the main road ran alongside the river, making the Twin Towers—built at the intersection of the waterway and the road—a key stronghold.
It was no exaggeration to say that half of the baron's tax revenue came from this place, so its importance needed no further explanation.
Having lost such a vital location, we were forced to begin truce negotiations from a position of weakness.
"We will not only retake the Twin Towers, Bolton, but we will also recover the baron's ancestral lands, charge into the enemy's heartland, and plant his flag before we return. So why don't you stop worrying?"
Bolton scoffed.
"You'd better. If this war ends in failure, Sir Ailgar's faction will gain the upper hand. Should that happen, not even you will be forgiven."
"It sounds like you're hoping we fail."
"How could that be? Just keep in mind that our vassals have brought more troops than you, Sir Allen."
"They're just rabble, aren't they?"
The vassals may have had greater numbers, but I had spent far more money hiring mercenaries. Besides, elite mercenaries of this caliber weren't something you could hire just because you had the coin.
"If that 'rabble' hadn't provided the numbers, we wouldn't even dare to face the enemy. The disparity in our forces is just that great."
According to our intelligence, the enemy force garrisoned at the Twin Towers numbered around two hundred—twice as many as us.
"Then let's hope your rabble proves as capable as you are confident."
"We, too, have high expectations for you, Sir Allen."
Bolton smiled and returned to his group. Piole, who had been following a short distance behind and listening to our exchange, spoke up.
"Seriously, what's with him? It's like he's praying for us to lose."
"They've invested too much in this war to want us to lose. They're just afraid of me earning accolades and building a reputation, afraid they'll lose their petty power."
To Segerik's vassals, I was an outsider, a competitor who could shatter their established power structure in an instant.
"So it's a power struggle? Geez, isn't that something you're supposed to worry about after winning the war?"
"Exactly. It's all meaningless if we don't win."
Piole had hit the nail on the head. She hated complexity, but she wasn't stupid. In fact, she was quite smart. The problem was that she rarely bothered to use that sharp mind of hers.
"Ah, whatever. I just hope they stay out of our way."
Piole stepped back and started bantering with the mercenaries. My gaze went past her, settling on Bolton and the other vassals.
Don't cross the line.
I could tolerate their little war of nerves, but if they actually tried to obstruct me, I wouldn't stand for it.
The Twin Towers stood on a low hill right beside the river. They were only about three stories high, but they looked sturdy and well-maintained.
A week after leaving Polton, we arrived before the Twin Towers. I ordered our camp to be set up at the foot of the hill.
"It's obviously going to be difficult, isn't it? We're at a disadvantage both geographically and numerically—the enemy has twice our numbers. And that's not all. Their commander, Sir Powell, is a strategist known as the 'Fox of the Battlefield.' Even Sir Joang was no match for him."
Bolton said, riding up beside me. His expression seemed to say it was too late for regrets.
"He's still just a fox. No matter how cunning a fox may be, it's nothing but prey before a lion."
"I'm truly curious to see how long that confidence will last."
Bolton snorted openly.
I ignored him and sent a messenger to the Twin Towers. Soon, five or six riders emerged from a side gate. Accompanied by Piole and Bolton, I rode out to meet them in the middle ground between our armies.
"I don't recognize you."
The young knight at the head of the enemy party studied my face. It was Powell Osborne, a handsome man with striking, clear brown eyes.
I recognized him from a future that would now never come to pass—he was the political rival of Aenya, back when she had begun her descent into darkness. He was also Baron Debussy's son-in-law. The four men with him appeared to be knights.
We're outmatched in terms of knights, too.
None of the vassals, including Bolton, were knights. This meant the only advantage our side had over the enemy was me.
"I am Allen, son of Maxim Tobalts. On behalf of Baron Rasino, I demand that you withdraw from the lands you are illegally occupying."
"It seems Baron Rasino has run out of cards to play. Sending a wet-behind-the-ears boy to act as commander?"
Powell Osborne glanced back at his knights and shrugged. They responded with loud laughter.
"A pathetic provocation."
I didn't rise to the bait. I had anticipated that Powell Osborne would try something like this to size up a commander he had never met before.
The laughter cut off as if it had never been there. Powell Osborne narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down.
"Then what becomes of the ongoing truce negotiations?"
"They're off the table, of course. Surely you didn't think we would meekly accept such absurd terms?"
"Absurd terms, you say? You started a war over a two-hundred-year-old document, only to have your main gateway captured. Isn't offering a few manors in compensation a generous proposal?"
"You were the ones who provoked this war. Did you really think we'd stand by while you tried to dig a canal to bypass the waterway, the very lifeblood of our barony?"
Baron Debussy had been trying to dig a new waterway just before the Rhine entered Baron Rasino's lands.
If it were completed, Baron Rasino would no longer be able to collect tolls, and his barony's prosperity would crumble.
Powell Osborne smirked.
"What we do on our land is our own business."
"According to the charter, that land belongs to Baron Rasino."
"If that is truly Baron Rasino's will, then we have no choice but to prove who is right with spear, sword, and blood."
Powell Osborne was the first to turn his horse. The parley had served its purpose, confirming both sides' justifications and will to fight. It had also been a chance to probe the enemy. Just as Powell had sized me up, I had sized him up.
Just as I remembered, he was a formidable opponent. That much was clear from how he immediately locked the gates of the Twin Towers and prepared for a siege right after our parley.
"They won't come out of the Twin Towers. They know if they just hold out, our army will fall apart before long. It's winter, and we don't have a single proper siege weapon, do we?"
Bolton said, gesturing toward the Twin Towers. The other vassals of Segerik, gathered in the command tent, nodded in agreement.
"He's right! The enemy outnumbers us in both troops and knights!"
"If this war drags on, we'll go bankrupt paying the mercenaries' wages!"
Buoyed by the support of his fellow vassals, Bolton pressed his point.
"It may not be tall, but a tower is still a tower. A reckless charge would be a pointless waste of our men. Since it's on a low hill, we could try tunneling, but... ah, what a shame it's winter and the ground is frozen solid."
Bolton let his sentence trail off, staring at me with a sneer.
"Of course, I'm sure Sir Allen has a plan. After all, aren't you the one who called himself a lion and dismissed the 'Fox of the Battlefield' as mere prey?"
I replied without taking my eyes off the Twin Towers.
"Anyone can point out problems without offering a solution."
Bolton answered as if he'd been waiting for me to say that.
"A solution? Of course, I have one. We surround the tower and cut off their supply lines. The Twin Towers are small, and they've been holed up in there for a while now. Their provisions can't be plentiful."
"The same could be said for us."
Segerik was in charge of our supplies, but he was an heir with no real power. He couldn't keep us supplied indefinitely. The mercenary wages another vassal had mentioned were also a pressing issue.
"We can simply procure what we need locally."
"You mean by plundering?"
"Isn't it a basic tenet of warfare to plunder the surrounding area to force a besieged enemy out? Better yet, we can cover our own supply needs and the mercenaries' wages. Wouldn't that be killing two birds with one stone?"
Bolton asked with a sly look.
"This entire area is the baron's territory."
I couldn't hide my disbelief. The kind of plundering Bolton suggested was something one did in enemy territory.
Bolton smiled meaningfully.
"There are several nearby territories belonging to supporters of Sir Ailgar."
It seemed this hadn't been discussed beforehand, as even Segerik's other vassals couldn't hide their surprise. One of them spoke up.
"Are you suggesting we plunder our allies! They may support a different heir, but they are all comrades under the baron!"
"What are you talking about? The enemy will be the ones doing the plundering."
"What..."
I raised a hand, silencing the vassal.
"Make it look like the enemy did it?"
"If we cover our family crests, do you think those ignorant peasants will be able to recognize us? This is an opportunity to acquire vast wealth and weaken Sir Ailgar's faction under a perfect pretext. I guarantee you, if Sir Segerik were here, he would approve."
Bolton was stoking the vassals' greed and their loyalty to Segerik. A silence fell over the tent as the vassals exchanged glances, gauging one another's reactions.
From the greedy glint in their eyes, it was clear they were tempted by Bolton's proposal.
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Bolton's words were plausible, but a closer look revealed a plan riddled with holes.
There was no guarantee the victims wouldn't recognize us, nor that the soldiers taking part in the raids would keep their mouths shut. Were there truly any secrets in this world?
Bolton continued, "And that's not all. What do you think will happen when Ailgar's supporters learn their lands have been plundered? At first, they'll curse the enemy. But soon after, they'll start pointing fingers at Sir Ailgar for failing to protect them."
It was an exquisite scheme that went beyond simply weakening Ailgar's faction; it would sever the ties between him and his supporters.
Gulp.
The vassals' Adam's apples bobbed. Greedy eyes turned to me. Fired up with avarice, they looked ready to start plundering the moment I gave the word.
Beyond them, Bolton stood with his arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face. A cunning bastard.
I suspected he didn't believe for a second that the secret of plundering our own allies could be kept. He might even leak it himself. Why? Because as the commander, I would be the one to bear the ultimate responsibility.
He might even conspire with the other vassals to frame me, claiming I had planned and executed the entire affair.
Even those who didn't know the truth would sense something was amiss. They would surmise that even as commander, an outsider like me couldn't possibly have complete control over the established vassals.
But even so, they wouldn't turn their backs on men they had known for years to side with a stranger.
To fill his pockets with plunder, win Segerik's favor to get closer to power, and then shift all the blame onto me—it was a brilliant move with absolutely no downside for him.
Which is why this is so hard to understand.
Even though Aenya had been little more than a wallflower in that now-defunct future, as the baron's mistress, she had overheard all sorts of rumors. And yet, the name Bolton Bruyne had never come up.
If a man this cunning had been by Segerik's side from the start, Segerik would never have been outmaneuvered by his younger brother.
A scheme of this level was something only a man like Joang, the baron's personal strategist, could devise. Yes, it was far more plausible that Joang had given him the idea.
A traitor? Or did he simply receive some help?
Whatever the case, this was no longer something I could dismiss as a simple war of nerves. I smiled at Bolton.
"An excellent plan. But it has one blind spot."
A crack appeared in Bolton's smile.
"Hah, a blind spot? This is a perfect plan where no one loses!"
"On the contrary, it sounds like a plan that puts all our necks on the line."
"What!"
Ignoring the fuming Bolton, I turned to the other vassals, who were still watching me with feverish eyes.
"What do you think will happen when the baron finds out about this?"
"...!"
An icy chill shot through the tent. The excited atmosphere instantly plummeted.
"In the grand scheme of things, Sir Ailgar's supporters are still the baron's men. In other words, this plunder would be no different from raiding the baron's own property."
The vassals' faces darkened as they finally realized the flaw in the plan. The same went for Bolton, the one who had proposed it.
The fact that he looked more bewildered than anyone else confirmed it for me. He was being used by Joang.
"Bolton, are you trying to get us all killed?"