Chapter 87
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Aftermath (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving in front of Baron Pappenheim's office, I knocked on the door three times.
Even though it was just a knock, I felt a tension like my heart was being squeezed tight.
'I wasn't even this tense when I was on the brink of death in battle.'
My instincts must have recognized this incompetent baron as a genuine threat to my life.
"Reporting as summoned, Baron. White Beard Mercenary Corps, Martin Meyer."
Shortly after, a pleased voice from inside the office granted me permission to enter.
"It's Martin. Come in quickly. I've been waiting for you."
Stepping inside, Baron Pappenheim wore a kindly smile that evoked the image of Buddha himself.
For a moment, a chill ran down my spine.
'Why the hell is this bastard grinning at me like that?'
"Butler, bring a chair for Squad Leader Martin. He's an honored guest, isn't he?"
"Yes, understood."
As I sat in the chair, Pappenheim gazed at me with a dazzlingly bright smile.
"I've been so swamped I couldn't even catch my breath until now. Sorry for delaying in calling you here personally to offer encouragement."
"Not at all."
"No, even with all the discussions with Marseille's mayor, guildmasters, and councilmen, I should have met the top contributor to the Pastek Hill battle sooner to commend you. Without you, I'd still be holed up in Seik Fortress, suffering away without earning any merits, right?"
Judging purely by this scene of him objectively praising me, it was impossible to tell if this guy was incompetent or a capable commander who strictly distinguished between rewards and punishments.
"When the formal commendations happen, you'll receive even greater rewards. But this is a personal token from me."
The baron placed a small box and a key on his desk.
"I've put my heart into it. Go ahead and open it."
Opening the box revealed platinum and gold coins sparkling assertively inside.
'This bastard's more generous than I thought?'
I felt some of my prejudice toward Pappenheim melting away at the sight.
"It's about 170 gold coins if exchanged. Thanks to you, we achieved a great victory, so this much is only fitting."
170 gold coins—enough to buy food for 34 serf families of four to live on for a year, or roughly 34 million won in Korean currency. A massive sum.
No matter how much I disliked the baron, with a reward like this... I immediately bowed deeply in gratitude.
Pappenheim waved his hand modestly at my thanks, a sheepish smile on his face.
"It's nothing compared to your merits. Besides, this money is part of the 'legally collected protection fees' from Marseille's elites and nobles. Take it without any burden."
"Thank you, Baron. I will continue giving my utmost so as not to disappoint you."
As long as he paid us like this and didn't pull any shady stunts like some shadowy independence fighter Mr. Mudaguchi, doing my best to satisfy him was my job.
Forget everything else—just don't cause any incidents while I'm here and eat the handouts moderately.
Then I'd pull whatever strings necessary to ensure victory in this war for my own promotion and for my beloved Lucia and Karin...
'God, Buddha, Allah, please...'
The baron patted my shoulder and let out a sigh.
"Hoo, seeing you brings a certain thought to mind."
"Yes, Baron."
"Nothing else, but I hold your abilities, intellect, and courage in high regard, so I'm specially offering you a chance to be commissioned as a mid-level knight. What do you think?"
A mercenary swordsman at Aura Expert level could submit an application to any house and get knighted.
Hell, if they really wanted, they could join any imperial knight order except the emperor's direct guard.
Because among all the countless knights, only about 4-5% ever reached Expert—a rarity of immense power.
And with my duel against Schwappen and my exploits in the Pastek Hill raid, my value had skyrocketed; now even attempting to recruit me as an upper knight would require offering several villages as a fief.
This lowly baron offering me a 'special' mid-level knighthood?
'Has this bastard lost his mind without knowing his place?'
As I gaped in disbelief, Baron Pappenheim patted my shoulder and said,
"Haha, must be surprised by such a bold proposal."
Bold? More like insultingly demoting me, you prick.
"To be frank, among my subordinate knights, there's no one as quick-witted and brave as you. No, compared to you, they're all utterly worthless incompetents."
This madman was now badmouthing his own knights right in front of me.
Didn't he realize what kind of scandal it would cause if word spread that a titled noble was insulting his vassals in front of some lowly mercenary? Or did he just not think?
'What, is his skull stuffed with udon noodles?'
Nothing else explained such insane remarks and behavior.
Even when I'd faced life-threatening situations living in this otherworld, I'd never truly felt 'fear.'
But listening to this baron, my body was trembling in terror.
Was Won Gyun—the guy even Admiral Yi Sun-sin gave up on—like this?
"I am truly grateful for the offer. However, I owe my life to Dalton von Prime, captain of the White Beard Mercenary Corps. Please forgive me for declining your commission."
Bringing up loyalty and obligation more precious than life to nobles—he sighed, seemingly forced to back down.
"I figured one of you would be worth more than my ten knights... but if that's the circumstance, no helping it."
"Thank you for understanding, Baron."
"Instead, I have some questions about future operations."
"Please, go ahead."
The baron spread a map out in front of me and said,
"According to my regular troops' reports, there are two 1,000-man detachments about half a day's walk from here on foot. A captured Montmartre soldier claims they're here to support Count Rezume."
My knowledge from playing the game this world was based on, combined with my real mercenary combat experience, set off alarm bells.
'Ah, this is definitely a bait tactic.'
Even assuming they came to support Rezume, no idiot army of 1,000 would fail to send out scouts.
They'd at least check if the flag over the castle was Montmartre's or the Rheinpalz Empire's.
Seeing the flag change, they'd know they'd get picked off individually if they stayed and would swiftly retreat to the main force.
Staying put like that? Obvious bait to anyone.
Yet the baron was grinning ear to ear, even snorting with excitement.
"The distance between the two units is considerable, so if we time the attack right, I believe we can defeat 2,000 Montmartre troops. What do you think?"
I wanted to scream,
'That's bait, you moron bastard!'
But whether in a company or the army, even if the boss's face looked worse than a pumpkin trampled by a cow, you had to smile, flatter, and say they looked handsome.
This baron held our mercenary corps' lifeline, and he was the mad type who badmouthed his own vassals in front of me.
Pointing out his flaws would be like openly begging him to kill me...
'Let's bait him with the promotion and political intrigue talk he loves so much.'
"Baron, it's certainly a golden opportunity. But we mustn't act rashly right now. A misstep could give other imperial nobles cause to criticize you."
The baron gritted his teeth at that but twitched his eyebrows, showing interest.
"......Since it's you, I'll hear you out."
I began acting like a loyal retainer.
"To be perfectly frank, Baron, the empire's nobles are all noble indeed, but they engage in political infighting over interests, like territory and power, don't they?"
The baron nodded in agreement.
"However, the surest way to elevate one's value over political squabbles is to establish 'military merits.' In that sense, Baron, you've succeeded in capturing a count with 2,000 against 5,000 enemy troops. Your achievements so far alone guarantee you elevated status, power, and substantial rewards going forward."
Pappenheim couldn't hide his smile at my words.
"But will the other nobles view your merits so favorably? There might be those jealous of such a massive feat that could raise your title and eager to nitpick."
At that, the baron ground his teeth and slammed his fist on the desk.
"Such an absurd travesty mustn't happen! How dare they try to blemish the merits I've earned!"
They say the simpler and stupider a person, the more fixated they get on the rice cake right in front of them.
"As I understand it, Baron, your orders were to remain in Marseille Castle until receiving further instructions to move to the next objective. So I recommend dispatching a messenger to the count to report the current situation and await orders. That way, you avoid any baseless 'insubordination' accusations that could nullify all your hard-earned merits."
Pappenheim closed his eyes, deep in thought at my words.
A few minutes later, he looked at me, sighed, and said,
"You're right. All these are merits I've earned—why give other nobles a chance to tarnish them? It's a shame not to kill those 2,000 troops... but I'll heed your advice."
"It's an honor, Baron."
"No, without you, I nearly suffered a huge loss from those jealousy-blinded nobles. It's late; you may retire."
The baron waved me off, issuing his dismissal.
Heading back to the barracks, I felt a twinge of inner anxiety.
This bastard wouldn't actually take my perfunctory flattery—calling all merits his own—at face value and delusionally believe it was all thanks to him, would he?
......Yeah, screw that. Even the shadowy independence fighter Mr. Mudaguchi wouldn't stoop that low.
And so, as I advised, we remained in Marseille Castle for about three weeks until the baron's superior, the count, arrived.