The Ashes of Arcteria
"Is it finally time to pillage?"
Just because they were mercenaries didn't mean they could pillage whenever they pleased.
They were strong, but not strong enough to withstand the sheer weight of numbers. If a large subjugation force appeared, they had no choice but to tuck their tails and run.
That was why they craved war. With a powerful backer who would turn a blind eye to their plunder, they would be given free rein to pillage.
"Yes, yes. It's time to pillage. Don't go playing the hero and end up as target practice. Just grab whatever gold you can and get out."
To the mercenary captain, this entire operation felt unsettling.
Arcteria is in chaos? Even so, does it make sense to push us in first?
The advance payment had been generous. The plan was simple: they would raid Arcteria, and any gold or supplies the mercenaries seized would be theirs to keep.
Something is off...
While it was true that Arcteria had become an easy target, there were limits.
Invading a fully functioning territory with nothing but mercenaries, looting villages, and defeating the local guards was no easy task.
"Well, they must have seen an opening, which is why they told us to go in first. They aren't fools, and our band isn't about to die before the others!"
"True enough."
Still, the number of mercenary bands deployed for this operation was significant.
Even if Arcteria mobilized its army to subjugate them, they would likely target the more aggressive bands first.
"We've been to Arcteria a few times before. It's manageable. If we wait too long, the others might sweep up all our loot!"
"...Very well."
The captain had no real choice. Even if the operation was dangerous, his men were more than willing to risk their lives for plunder.
"Tell the men to gear up and stay sharp. And let them know that if anyone falls behind schedule because they got greedy, I'll personally kill them."
"Understood!"
The mercenary captain made his decision, and the band set out.
They were not alone. Countless other mercenary bands were marching toward Arcteria, driven by the scent of plunder.
With this many...
Although no formal contracts had been signed, every single one of them had set out after securing firm promises from Grifort.
Harboring a lingering sense of unease, the captain led his men across the border into Arcteria.
"...Why does this place feel so empty?"
Granted, they hadn't taken the main roads. They had scaled steep mountains and slipped through gaps in the border patrol.
Even so, the lack of guards was unnatural. It felt as though they were walking straight into a trap.
"Keep your guard up. Act as if anything could happen, and move cautiously until we reach our first target."
"Aren't you being a bit too paranoid, Captain?"
"The paranoid ones live longer. You'll realize that once you've been in this business as long as I have."
The mercenaries pressed forward, eventually reaching their target village.
"...What is the meaning of this?"
The village was completely deserted.
Their intelligence hadn't been wrong. There were clear signs that people had been living here until very recently.
"Did we drag our feet too much? It's already been cleaned out. There's not a single scrap of food or gold left."
"This..."
The captain began to doubt his own judgment.
Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps he was simply getting old and losing his edge.
"Were there other mercenaries operating in this area?"
"There are footprints over there... and the storehouse looks broken into. It has to be another mercenary band that beat us to it."
"Perhaps."
Yet, the captain couldn't shake his doubts.
There were no bodies. A raid of this scale should have left behind signs of slaughter and arson, but the village was far too clean.
It's too strange.
It was as if someone had anticipated the raid and evacuated the villagers beforehand.
But that's impossible...
Commoners were not the sort of people to pack up and move just because soldiers told them to.
Unless forced at swordpoint, peasants rarely abandoned their homes.
Ultimately, the absence of bodies was merely a personal suspicion. There was no concrete proof that they were walking into a trap.
"Let's move."
He was the captain. It was his duty to keep his men's discontent at bay.
The mercenaries marched on toward the next village.
"I have nothing to offer you but my deepest apologies. I am truly sorry."
Evacuating the villagers had been no easy feat. But for me, it was simple.
Showing my face and offering a brief apology was all it took to convince them to leave their homes.
"Please, do not say that, my Lord. You did this for our sake, did you not?"
"Had we stayed, those brutal mercenaries would have slaughtered us all. It is only thanks to you, my Lord, that we are still breathing."
The villagers were actually comforting me. It was a favorable turn of events.
"You even brought the Bishop to comfort us. How could we be anything but grateful? We thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
Gathering so many villagers in one place naturally demanded a massive amount of supplies and manpower.
And instead of sending the Bishop—whom I had summoned in advance—to Arcteria Castle, I had sent him here to console the refugees.
"Count Edrin Silverline. May I have a word?"
The elderly Bishop called out to me, his brow furrowed in deep disapproval.
"Of course. I will be right there."
The moment we stepped into a quiet room, the Bishop's furious voice pierced my ears.
"What is the meaning of this? How dare you try to exploit the Holy Church!"
"Exploit? That is a harsh word, Your Grace. There is no one in Arcteria who yearns for the touch of the divine more than these people."
"You know very well that is not the issue here."
While corrupt clergymen certainly existed, the elderly Bishop standing before me was not one of them.
Had these refugees been displaced by a natural disaster, the Bishop would have gladly offered them sermons and comforted their souls.
"The Church has declared political neutrality. We have no intention of interfering in your territorial disputes!"
"This is not a territorial war. Not yet."
"Do you take me for a fool who cannot tell the difference?"
He knew. He knew this pillaging was not the random violence of bandits, but a deliberate disruption orchestrated by Grifort.
That was precisely why he was so afraid. The Church was not prepared to take Arcteria's side and condemn Grifort.
"I am aware that Grifort's donations to the Church are quite substantial."
"It is not about the donations! The Lord of Grifort may not be a devout man, but if the Church begins to intervene in every single territorial conflict—"
"I understand."
I had no intention of pressuring the Bishop more than necessary.
"Are you tired? If you are willing, there is a place I would like to show you."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To see what the mercenaries hired by Grifort have done. Since you have come all this way... shouldn't you witness it with your own eyes?"
The Bishop hesitated.
It was a death he did not need to see, a tragedy he had no reason to witness.
Yet, he did not seem like a man who would run away.
"I will go."
A short while later, the Bishop and I rode across my territory, flanked by a large escort of soldiers.
"Fire..."
From atop his horse, the Bishop stared at the flames illuminating the dark landscape. It was not the glow of torches, but the blazing ruins of buildings.
"I will not ask for your help. I only ask that you remember this. And that you keep the promise you just made."
"What promise do you mean?"
"That the Church will not interfere in territorial conflicts."
On our way to the destination, the Bishop witnessed five separate blazes.
Each one was a village. Each one had been a place where people lived, now reduced to smoldering ruins.
Finally, we reached our destination.
"This place..."
"It is safe now. Though it was not so before."
Blood stained the ground. Buildings lay in ruins, and broken swords and farming tools were scattered everywhere.
"We have cleared the bodies. The ones who raided this place managed to escape."
"Ah..."
But the Bishop could easily picture it.
The horrific atrocities committed against these innocent people, and the agonizing terror they must have endured.
"I understand. Condemnation is not the role of a priest, so it is only natural that you fear embroiling yourself in conflict. I truly understand."
I placed a hand on the shoulder of the weeping Bishop, who had collapsed to his knees.
"Just remember this. Remember the pillaged lands, and the people who suffered."
Smoldering ash drifted on the wind, carrying with it the metallic, sickening scent of blood.
"I beg of you."
I looked straight into the Bishop's eyes.