Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Count's Mansion
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The Northmond Ducal House, one of the pillars upholding the Deford Empire. And Duke Northmond Alik, the head of that ducal house, wore an extremely displeased expression.
"Sarisa Count... that stupid bastard... He lost even after all the support I gave him?"
The fact that Sarisa Count, a member of his own faction, had lost despite the aid was a massive blow to his pride. And to top it off, Cligrove Count was supposedly bedridden and delirious from illness. Word was he'd barely lost to the count's own daughter, of all people.
Just the support alone—funds, weapons, provisions—cost a fortune, and the more he thought about it, the worse the duke's mood became.
In the first place, Cligrove ruled a city while Sarisa ruled a castle. Those two nobles of different calibers clashing on equal terms wouldn't have been possible without his help.
"Damn it... At least there's no pretext for it. If Cligrove had even a bastard from the Sarisa family, I might've handed over the whole territory."
It had been a plan to smack down the arrogant neutral Cligrove Count while bolstering his own faction, but one defeat had turned it to dust.
"I'll have to lay low for a while. That count's daughter isn't your average girl. They say she was adopted for her sword talent, but her leadership skills are impressive too."
But he hadn't anticipated this. The clash between Sarisa territory and Cligrove territory, which he'd thought was over, was far from finished.
"Please, step up, Lady."
"Thank you, Sir Edward."
With Sir Edward's escort, the Lady boarded the carriage. Every man who beheld her radiant figure fell silent, but none of the usual crude remarks followed. Her caliber was simply too far beyond them.
As the Lady settled into the carriage, knights surrounded it. At the forefront, the lowest-ranking knight carried the count's family banner. No trace of the recent war marred that flag, as if proclaiming the conflict already concluded.
"Depart!"
Bwooo—
Trumpeters blared in unison, and the procession filling the mansion's garden began to move. Crowds gathered before the mansion to watch, erupting in cheers as it passed.
"Hooray!"
"Long live Cligrove! Long live the Count!"
Their cheers weren't born of true loyalty to the count's family—though some surely existed. The main reason was the scraps about to come their way.
"Behold the mercy of this noble and glorious lady!"
Clink!
As the crowd reached out amid the cheers, the carriage door opened, and a pale, delicate hand emerged. A handful of silver coins—silings—poured from it into the throng.
"Hooray!"
This was noble mercy incarnate. The poor scrambled desperately for the raining silings, eyes ablaze, while wealthy townsfolk laughed at the spectacle.
But the nobles' largesse didn't end there. To flaunt the family's prestige and demonstrate the solidity of their rule, a more decisive measure was needed. That measure: free beer all day long.
They'd bought up not just the family's stores but every barrel in the city, handing it out gratis. It was a money pit, but effective. Providing beer for a day was cheaper than scattering silings from the carriage or giving away daily necessities.
Every village along the route—and Sarisa Castle at the end—would scream with joy. This extravagant display of noble generosity would chip away at Sarisa Count's grip on power.
"At ease! We're out now!"
Only after leaving the city did sighs escape the tense soldiers. Maintaining full armor and rigid posture was grueling.
Rattle—
The clank of carriage and armor filled the road. To Sarisa Count's castle from here? Four days at most, generously. Not marching to war, they'd take it easy with rests.
And so we set off toward Sarisa Castle. It took exactly four days.
"The castle!"
"Straighten up!"
Even peaceful scenery grows monotonous. Endless fields of wheat, orchards, or meadows—save for occasional villages—made for dull times. Add rests to spare the fully armored troops' stamina, and it dragged even longer.
The soldiers' initial crisp formation had slackened into a ragged march, like defeated remnants. But sighting the castle lifted their spirits. Sweet rest awaited just ahead.
Bwooo—
Just before arrival, they snapped back to departure-ready form, marching without a waver, as if the weary stragglers had vanished.
From the walls, a man watching us shouted.
"Who goes there?!"
Not that he didn't know. Pure formality. Like sentries quizzing a division commander on passwords—pointless ritual.
"This is the rightful proxy of the great ruler of Cligrove County, Cligrove Count: the sword of Cligrove, victor of the war, the Lady of Cligrove! Who dares bar her path?!"
Sir Edward's booming voice. The man atop the wall bowed his head.
"I am Hamond Valda, Baron, vassal of Sarisa Count, rightful ruler of Sarisa territory, and captain of the guard! What house do you serve?"
"I am Edward Norton, eldest son of Viscount Norton's house, sworn to Cligrove, and captain of the Cligrove Knights! Open the gates!"
Creeeak—
With the formal exchange done, the sturdy gates slowly swung open. Inside thronged a massive crowd.
"Cligrove..."
"My son died to those bastards..."
Unlike Cligrove's crowds, these weren't welcoming. After mutual slaughter in war, expecting friendliness would be shameless. But that hatred would soon evaporate.
"Behold the mercy of the great Lady of Cligrove! Praise her! Her boundless grace shall pour upon you!"
Whoosh!
At those words, the juggling clowns up front scurried back, heaving heavy sacks. Silver silings spilled out, gleaming.
"Hooray!"
In that silver shower, hatred vanished instantly. No time for hate—snatching coins mattered more. This was the Lady's gambit: a lethal blow to Sarisa Count's already cracking rule.
"Pepper! Pepper!"
"Who desires cloth?!"
Spices, cloth, daily goods rained around the procession. The frenzied crowd that had lost kin to us cheered the Lady and our side. Hate your foes? Maybe you're just not giving enough.
"Make way!"
As the mob slowed us to a crawl, shouts erupted ahead, parting the crowd. Sarisa knights and cavalry.
A dismounted knight approached the carriage; the window slid open. He peered in, froze briefly, then belatedly bowed.
"My apologies, Lady. I am a knight in service to Sarisa Count and..."
"Spare the introductions. Clear the path, won't you? Your lord awaits me, does he not?"
"Of course. Clear the way!"
Fool. The count's knight took her word and used his riders to shove back the very crowd receiving Cligrove's mercy. Now they'd think:
Wait, Cligrove scum give money and goods? But our count's knights shove us away on horseback?
You might say what do peasants matter? But to a count whose rule already wobbled, such an image was poison.
Either way, we lost nothing. Following the cavalry's path, we left the coin-grubbing mob behind and headed straight for the count's mansion, trailing the sluggish carriage.
The mansion sat near the inner keep. Desperate crowds chasing scraps made us look like pied pipers. Duty called, though.
"Guard the carriage! The Lady descends!"
As it halted, I ordered vanguard swordsmen to encircle it. Just in case.
"My hand..."
"Thank you, sir."
Her descent brightened the drab, male-crowded mansion front. Even sour faces softened to flutters at her sight.
With Sir Edward's escort off the carriage, I swiftly took position behind her.
Sir Edward glared disapprovingly. "Escort is sufficient, Sir Lucas. Wait over there."
"No, Sir Lucas comes with me. Sir Edward, control the troops here. I entrusted this guard duty to him."
"But Lady..."
"Even Sarisa Count wouldn't scheme here. And Sir Lucas holds nominal guard duty—time he gained experience, no?"
Sir Edward shot me a glare, bowed, then trudged off like a drenched pup to manage the men.
"Safe to entrust me?"
I was noble, sure—a mere baron. My post? Vanguard swordsman captain. Sarisa Count's side would field at least barons or viscounts. I was outclassed.
But the Lady offered her parasol nonchalantly.
"Worry not. And you wouldn't leave a lady under this sun, would you?"
Her calm eased me into a grin as I took and opened it.
"Of course not."
Meanwhile, Sarisa Count's mansion was grand. Adjacent to the castle, it linked to the walls, fronted by a moat and bastions. The narrow, long stairs to it screamed defensibility.
"Hm..."
Ascending revealed stunning views. Cligrove's mansion was lovely, but this was different—perched high, overlooking castle, village, wheat fields.
Distant fields, orchards, woods. Sarisa Castle cradled nature's beauty.
Clank—clank—
Unlike the serene outside, the mansion was deathly quiet, every pin drop audible. Only our footsteps and armor clinks broke the silence.
At the reception room, the lead knight eyed me up, then my sword.
"Sir, we'll have one of our soldiers take your sword."