A Knight's Honor
Manir turned the name over in his mind for a moment, then remembered where he had heard of Malešov.
It's a place those other knight bastards used to run their mouths about.
The damned knights of Count Poner — the ones who never stopped calling him a coward. When they mocked him, one of their favorite insults had involved a shaman.
At the time, Manir had assumed the story was something they'd cooked up on the spot just to needle him. They probably hadn't truly believed the rumor themselves. That was precisely why they'd used it to mock him.
Could the demonic beasts that appeared in Malešov really have been summoned by a shaman?
He already knew that Valois territory was in disarray thanks to the demonic beasts appearing all over the place. By rights, a demonic beast was a monster you cut down the moment you laid eyes on it. Humans had always rejected the alien, and demonic beasts stood at the very peak of that otherness — too savage to be called mere animals, and some among them had even learned to speak, however clumsily. Above all, they tried to kill every living thing that was not themselves.
And this was wartime: a territorial war between nobles. Knights who prized honor might well consider it a disgrace that their own lord had hired a shaman. But Manir was a rare breed among knights — a man who grasped reality quickly. He possessed a knight's pride, and he valued honor. But he was also the sort of man who would look the other way and get his hands dirty when the situation demanded it.
Count Poner had clearly known as much when he sent Manir south. Because even if Manir learned the truth, it wouldn't faze him in the slightest. And indeed, that was precisely how Manir saw it.
Winning is what matters.
The real problem lay elsewhere. The shaman currently in Malešov — should he consider that man an ally?
Even if I did, I don't think I could ask him for cooperation.
Count Poner may have hired him, but Manir knew far too little about this so-called shaman. And this wasn't just anyone — it was a wretched creature who commanded demonic beasts. He couldn't easily trust someone like that. More importantly, their missions were different. The shaman was using demonic beasts to throw the territory into chaos. Manir just needed to secure the artifact and go home.
In that case, that mage and the knight I've never seen before...
They were going after the one in Malešov.
They're planning to move once winter passes.
Right now, even breathing produced plumes of white vapor. It was only natural they weren't moving yet.
Then now would actually be the perfect time...
He decided to stop worrying about the shaman in Malešov. Whatever the truth of it, he had no desire to cross paths with some unpleasant creature who commanded demonic beasts. More than anything, he desperately wanted to finish this godforsaken mission and be done with it. At any rate, their footsteps were halted because of the season — and if he wanted to seize an opportunity, it was better to do so before winter ended.
"How many soldiers?"
"A fair number, sir."
Manir let out a low groan. He'd suspected as much, but they wouldn't be easy opponents. A knight, a mage, and soldiers on top of that. Whether he stole the artifact or took it by force, punching through those numbers to recover it would be difficult either way.
Damn it. I finally found him, and I can't even make a move.
But waiting around in a place like this for an opportunity to fall into his lap wasn't easy either. Winter put hard limits on how long they could camp, and if they were spotted they might well be branded as suspicious characters.
"What are your orders?"
At his subordinate's question, Manir closed his eyes and thought. Then he answered quietly.
"...We go in disguise. All of us."
"Sir?"
Disguise themselves as mercenaries and make contact. The other side would need manpower right now, so they'd welcome mercenaries. Then watch for an opening, snatch the artifact, and head north. That was Manir's plan.
"If we're found out, every man is to escape on his own."
At his words, the soldiers nodded with grim faces.
A soldier on watch shouted the alarm, and the others gathered near the wagons at once. The conscript soldiers, without even asking what was happening, formed ranks in front of the wagons the moment they heard those words. The training of the past weeks was paying off.
"What's going on?"
"Suspicious men have shown up outside the village!"
Joseph, leading his private soldiers, joined them belatedly and asked. Arke pointed toward the village outskirts. Joseph climbed the village's low outer wall and looked down. A group of men had indeed stopped at the village entrance.
Refugees...? No. That's not it.
The men were conspicuously well-built for refugees. And every last one of them wore a sword at his hip — they were clearly no ordinary folk.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Arke stepped forward and shouted. The men conferred among themselves, then two of them broke away from the group. They approached slowly, then stopped at a measured distance.
"We're mercenaries! Please, help us!"
Auger and Joseph looked at each other.
Mercenaries? In this winter?
It was the dead of winter. Even bandits normally holed up in one place until the weather thawed. Why would mercenaries come to a place like this?
"What brings mercenaries all the way out here?!"
"We were on our way to the northern battlefield! But we were attacked by demonic beasts and lost a great many of our comrades! Is there any work we might take on?!"
Arke looked at Auger and Joseph, his eyes asking what they should do.
"Hmm. Seems this area really is thick with demonic beasts."
Joseph's expression, however, was somewhat puzzled.
"Aren't mercenaries subject to conscription?"
A subjugation decree for the Malešov demonic beasts had been issued across Valois territory. Able-bodied young men were being conscripted on sight — so why were men this well-built wandering around freely?
"They don't appear to be natives of this region."
Auger shrugged as he answered. Conscription applied only to people of the Valois region. Mercenaries from elsewhere weren't included. If they arbitrarily conscripted people from other territories, it could escalate into a regional dispute.
"They were probably hoping to make some money fighting in the northern war. Then they got hit by demonic beasts, I suppose."
"Hmm..."
Joseph thought for a moment, then nodded. Listening to the explanation, there didn't seem to be anything particularly strange about it. And if what they said was true, this was a significant windfall. Hiring them would mean filling his ranks with experienced men.
Mercenaries...
Joseph had worked alongside mercenaries before. Men who made their living by the sword really did have a different kind of nerve.
It'd help the private soldiers too.
Just living alongside men like that would benefit his retainers. If they joined, it might also significantly reduce the risk of the Malešov infiltration.
"We should at least check where they're from."
At Joseph's words, Auger nodded and gave Arke a look.
"One of you come forward and show us all your mercenary plaques!"
One mercenary went back to the group, collected everyone's mercenary plaques, and handed them to Arke. Joseph watched as Auger examined them.
"Does that actually confirm anything?"
"Mercenaries who've come from other regions ought to have mercenary plaques, you see."
The mercenary system seemed more institutionally well-established than Joseph had expected. Indeed, the plaques they'd handed over listed names, dates of birth, and records of major past commissions.
"Quite a few of them operate in different areas."
"Yes, many of us assembled from other lands. Would you happen to have any work you could leave with us, just until winter passes?"
"Well, there is work, but..."
As Auger muttered this, still examining the plaques, Joseph glanced over from the side — and something on one of them caught his eye. A certain word written on a mercenary plaque.
Roph Merchant Guild escort?
Roph Merchant Guild — Escort
— struck through with a blade
Not the place of origin or area of operation, but the most recent entry in the major commissions column. It had been roughly scratched out with a blade, as if marking a failed mission, but looking closely it was unmistakable. Wasn't that the guild whose merchant lord had died in an ogre attack, and which had since been disbanded? The name of the Roph Merchant Guild was written right there.
Joseph reflexively shifted his gaze to the mercenaries. Frowning, he checked the faces of the distant men one by one, wondering if there was anyone he recognized. They were all strangers.
"...Have any of you ever taken a job with the Roph Merchant Guild?"
"Oh, you know that guild?"
The mercenary's eyes widened, and he answered with casual ease.
"We took a long-distance escort commission, spent months traveling all the way out there and back, and when we returned the guild had been disbanded. We never even got properly paid for it."
"Ah..."
Joseph scratched his cheek with an awkward expression. The guild's dissolution had happened while he was there, after all. Apparently, while Joseph's own incident had been unfolding, these men had been assigned to escort a different caravan. They'd finished the job and come back to find the guild master dead.
Then the story does add up.
He deliberately didn't mention that he himself had been there at the time. It hadn't been a particularly pleasant affair — and more than that, there were some things he felt a bit guilty about.
...If only that mana recovery artifact had been intact.
It was broken, but he'd kept it out of lingering attachment. Lately, while researching artifacts, he'd been trying to find some way to repair it. Studying the artifact-crafting magic book Zalier had possessed, Joseph had come to feel that artifact crafting was a kind of scholarship in its own right. Which was why he wanted to capture a dark mage and interrogate him — to ask why the characters inscribed on the pendant were the same as those on the pouch that had held the mana recovery artifact.
But...
A strange sense of unease flickered through Joseph's mind.
Why does everything fit together so neatly?
A mercenary company that showed up just when they were needed. And coincidentally, that same company had a connection to the Roph Merchant Guild, just like him.
Could it be...
A memory suddenly surfaced. The bandits who had come to kill him after learning he possessed a holy relic.
These bastards... they didn't come looking for me, did they?
But Joseph soon shook his head.
...There's no reason they would have, this time.
The string of incidents stretching back to Valois Castle had left Joseph quite on edge lately. He attributed this thought to that fatigue as well.
"Is something the matter?"
Seeing Joseph's peculiar, somewhat weary expression, Auger pulled him aside and asked.
"Ah, it's nothing."
Joseph told him that he had previously worked for the Roph Merchant Guild — and that a mercenary who had belonged to that guild seemed to be mixed in among them, though they hadn't lived together. Auger looked mildly interested at this first glimpse of Joseph's past, but didn't seem to feel any particular unease.
"Mercenaries wander from place to place taking all sorts of jobs, after all."
"That's true enough."
Just as Auger was putting the situation back in order, someone else spoke up.
"...If I may, would it be all right if I said something?"
Refn, who had been standing quietly off to the side, opened his mouth out of nowhere.