Chapter 88
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Aftermath (4)
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Marseille Castle, Grand Conference Hall.
In this conference room, where Margrave Estelle had yet to arrive, the knights and mercenaries were passing the time chatting idly about all sorts of topics among themselves.
Some of the guys were sharing risqué stories, keeping it just shy of crossing the line...
"Heh, while camping near a village by the capital Kaufenrent, I spotted a kind-hearted girl with a pretty face, so come dawn the next day, I tracked her down and took her as my concubine?"
"It took about forty gold coins to convince her family to send her to me. Then I relocated her folks to my territory and gave them some decent land."
"Spending that much on a serf girl and even looking after her family?"
"If you just take a girl away alone, she's prone to loneliness and depression, which makes for lousy nights in bed. But bring her family along, and she gets comfort from them—and she'll work hard for their sake too."
Others were talking politics.
"It feels like tensions are really heating up now that His Majesty has passed..."
"This push on Montmartre—it's not just to crush them. Regent Duke of Bohemia is trying to strip us nobles of our power, sap our will and means for civil war."
"Even if the Regent tries, it won't amount to much. A bunch more noble houses are doomed to fall."
The crude stories about buying women with money and status were disgusting enough just to overhear...
But the political talk was useful intel for me, Martin Meyer—someone without 'noble' connections.
Before being a survivor in this world, I was a game veteran who knew exactly how events would unfold.
Even snippets like that let me gauge how far things had progressed and where they'd head next.
'It's about to blow up.'
As I leaned toward Dalton nearby to share a word, a loud voice rang out from near the door.
"Margrave Estelle is entering! Everyone, please stand!"
At those words, everyone in the room—including me—stood and bowed in unison.
"Haha, Wilhelm, you don't need to bother with formalities like this."
"No, my lord. Displaying your authority and dignity through such procedures will make the mercenaries follow your orders with greater unity."
What nonsense was this guy spouting? Like a cow chomping steak instead of grass.
Us mercenaries listen fine if you pay on time and treat us decently.
What, like following one extra protocol makes us obey better?
"Your point has merit, Wilhelm, but these are wartime conditions. No more forcing unnecessary rituals on them. There are barons and knights under my command here, but also mercenaries who aren't my vassals."
"Understood, my lord."
"The strategy meeting might run long, so once it's over, prepare plenty of food for everyone in the castle. Tonight, to ask the nobles and mercenaries to give their all going forward, I'll foot the bill generously."
"As you command."
The man who looked like the head butler hurried off, and in his wake, a swarm of nobles approached Margrave Estelle.
"Margrave, haha. It's an honor to serve under your command on the battlefield. Nothing much, but it's a masterwork sword forged by dwarves."
"Baron Berg here had this new baton made to wish you victory, my lord."
"If it's alright, might I have the honor of hosting you tonight?"
Estelle responded to each one with sincere thanks.
"Baron Flugel, sorry, but tonight I'm abstaining from drink and women. The duties of a margrave weigh heavy on my shoulders, and I need to review what we require for the operations ahead."
Politely turning down a subordinate's invitation to entertain him—fitting for the capable lord from the game.
In the game, he was portrayed as diligent with top-tier tactical command, but seeing him declare he'd work alone while others reveled...
'Worlds apart from that Papenheim bastard.'
And the margrave went around personally to the mercenary captains, patting shoulders and offering encouragement.
For a high-ranking noble like a margrave to motivate mere mercenary leaders like this wasn't everyday stuff...
But in war, praising and encouraging the captains under your banner before battle was seen as a unique but admirable virtue among nobles.
'Like the company chairman praising the temps.'
"Ah, you're the captain of the Black Goat Mercenaries? I look forward to your exploits."
Even if mercenaries weren't bound by class rigidities—and most of us were bottom-rung serfs, commoners, or fallen knights...
They all lit up with renewed zeal at encouragement from the 'sky-high' margrave.
'If only Papenheim had done just this much, it'd have been heaven.'
After consoling a few captains, the margrave approached Dalton's group.
Estelle extended his right hand with a faint smile.
"You're Dalton of the White Beard Mercenary Corps? Glad to finally meet you."
Dalton froze for a split second, then cautiously clasped the offered hand.
"Baron Papenheim's letter to me was packed with your name and deeds—I read it closely. Heard you played a big role stopping Baron Eclaire's unit from breaking through to cover their retreat at Pastek Hill."
Dalton, uncharacteristically, twitched his lips into a grin while sweat beaded on his face—a mix of emotions.
"An honor, my lord. All thanks to Baron Papenheim giving us the chance."
The margrave gave an awkward smile.
"Is that so? He'll be pleased to hear it. By the way, is that friend of yours who proposed the ambush on that hill here too?"
Dalton shot me an urgent glance: Get out here!
"White Beard Mercenary Corps Centurion Martin Meyer!"
Estelle looked me over and laughed heartily, clapping my shoulder.
"Martin, Martin Meyer. Common name—had me second-guessing, but you're that guy from last year who dueled the Schwaben brute for his woman and broke through your limits mid-fight?"
Guess nobles eat up tales of risking life for love and surpassing limits in battle.
"Yes, that's me."
"If you hadn't suggested that ambush, my right flank would've been in deep trouble. Nearly fell for the enemy's ploy, losing two thousand men and our supply lines."
"You're too kind."
"Humble too. At your age, with those feats? I'd have strutted and bragged shamelessly."
Envious glares from Papenheim and assorted others zeroed in on me.
"......He didn't encourage the other captains or barons that much."
"That young, just a centurion, getting such praise from the margrave."
"Life's bitter, but today it tastes extra sour."
If I were the timid type, I'd have begged to downplay the praise here, dodging their jealousy.
'But climbing high means drawing that much envy.'
Plus, groveling like 'Oh, you're too generous, my lord' would just fuel their hostility.
Estelle eyed my stance with interest.
"Oh, and the war report from Baron Papenheim said you captured a baron trying to flee at the end. You might not know, but Baron Eclaire's got a rep as a battle-hardened noble in our Rhinepalz Empire—that's a massive bounty coming your way."
I barely stopped myself from grinding my teeth.
'Baron Papenheim, you pig-feed worthy scum.'
I'd hoped not, but that bastard succeeded in the ambush yet couldn't press due to his weak troops.
That let the margrave send elites our way, giving Eclaire room to try retreating.
So he threw over a thousand elites at us, and I barely nabbed him amid a near-death scrape.
And this prick downplays my feat as just snagging a fleeing baron and his men?
Like covering his screw-up by painting me as some finisher who bugged out...
"Big hand in crushing five thousand with two thousand—that's a huge reward from the Rhinepalz Empire coming."
"Thank you."
"And—if you want—I can appoint you an upper knight in our margrave house."
Thinking of perks already? What a talent hound.
Of course, I planned to decline—I needed to keep raising my value.
The margrave then unbuckled the gold-worked sword at his waist and handed it over.
"A gift from me. Forged by our house's dwarf smith—better in your hands than a sword-illiterate like me."
A noble gifting a sword meant 'become a knight'—and his own personal blade carried extra weight.
'I intend to raise you as my closest retainer.'
Accepting would mean lavish treatment, but no need to cap my potential as a 'knight.'
Right now, priority was proving my worth to Estelle, exposing Papenheim's 'false report,' and ruining his house.
'Papenheim, thought you'd get away with screwing me to hide your shame?'
Estelle clapped sharply.
"Everyone, take your seats. Time to issue the real orders."