Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Noble's Honor
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At those words, I scowled. Who the hell was asking for my sword right now?
"Ha! A loser demanding the victor's sword. It seems your master fears my blade quite a bit."
The knight flushed red at my mockery and gripped his sword hilt. I'd basically just said his lord was such a coward that he feared a mere swordsman.
But he didn't draw it. He knew their position well enough. As the lady's cold voice cut through the tension between the two of us glaring at each other, hands on our swords...
"We've come here strictly from the victor's standpoint. If anyone's to seize swords, shouldn't it be us? Why are you acting like winners?"
"Even so, there's such a thing as courtesy..."
"That you're even alive is by my mercy. I released you without proper ransom, and now you have the gall to act high and mighty."
They looked like they had plenty to say, but none dared open their mouths. Bunch of idiots.
In the end, the knights—who hadn't even broken even—exchanged glances, cleared their throats awkwardly, and opened the door. Just as the lady said, they were firmly in the loser's position. And inside the now-open drawing room sat the man I'd seen before. It was Count Sarisa.
He was a snake of a man with black eyes and black hair. Sharp nose, sunken eye sockets, glossy curved thin mustache, and gaunt cheeks that made his cheekbones stand out. But unlike before, his eyes now held a listless air.
"Forgive me for summoning you like this, Lady Cligrove..."
As he rose to greet her, his gaze shifted to me.
"You...!"
The count's eyes bulged the moment he saw me, glaring daggers. In an instant, the listlessness vanished, replaced by rage and hatred. His trembling hand pointed straight at me.
"Th-that filthy mercenary scum here...!"
"Count Sarisa Angus."
Before the count's furious words could finish, the lady's icy voice cut him off.
"He is my escort and the vanguard swordsman captain of our house. A noble of Cligrove, so you'd best show him respect."
Doubt flooded the count's face.
"That scum was definitely a mercenary..."
"Given his achievements, it was only natural. Surely you've considered who captured you."
"......"
He flushed but had nothing to say, so he stayed silent. Recalling how he'd fled and left his men behind, even he would be too ashamed to bring it up. And so, the negotiations began in that heavy atmosphere.
"First, about the reparations... You called the amount excessive?"
The lady's blunt words hardened the count's expression. Admitting it was too much here would wound his noble pride. And whining about being broke after already agreeing? Utterly pathetic.
But the count wasn't ordinary. He quickly admitted they couldn't afford it.
"...Our territory doesn't have that kind of money. Even if we paid, the land would be ruined. Couldn't you show a little mercy...?"
Then don't start a war, asshole. It's ridiculous to punch first, lose, and then beg for a discount because you're broke. Mercy is granted by the victor, not demanded by the loser.
"As I recall, you started the war, not us. Yet you speak as if we did."
The lady's words made the count's mustache twitch. After a silence, he spoke quietly.
"...You lot, out."
"But, my lord."
"I said out."
The knights hesitated, but they couldn't defy their lord. They eventually left the drawing room. Confirming they were gone, the count's gaze turned to me.
"Send him out too. I have words to say."
"...Sir Lucas. Wait outside."
"Lady."
"It's fine. Go."
At her firm command, I bowed and exited the drawing room.
"Damn it all..."
The negotiations ended quickly. Count Sarisa had failed to haggle down the reparations as hoped. The sword was in the opponent's hand.
Thinking of the massive war indemnity he now had to pay twisted his guts. And just recently, a scolding letter had arrived from the duke who'd supported the war.
"My lord!"
His retainers, arriving late to the drawing room, called out.
"How did the talks go?"
"......"
As the count stayed silent, a heavy quiet fell over the retainers who'd read the mood. The negotiations had failed. For the not-particularly-wealthy Sarisa County, the debt was far too enormous. And moreover...
"They brought up our soldiers."
"Then...!"
"They've caught on to some extent. Fortunately, none of them have loose lips."
It was a topic from midway through the talks. The story of Sarisa's soldiers turning bandit. But with no proof the count had ordered it, Lady Lenia had only asked for cooperation in capturing the bandit deserters.
That didn't change their dire situation, though. The count and his retainers huddled with grave faces.
"My lord."
After a moment, Viscount Trump—one of Count Sarisa's retainers—spoke first. Confirming only their own were around, he whispered.
"How about this? We kill them here."
"Viscount Trump! How could you suggest such a dishonorable act?!"
"Absurd!"
"Shameless cur! I'm ashamed you're a noble like us!"
The nobles erupted in an instant. Honor meant nothing—yet it was everything. Lose it once, and you lose all justification.
Cligrove had beaten Sarisa County but only taken the iron mines because they lacked claim to the territory. But if they tried to assassinate the count's delegation during talks and failed? The emperor would grant Cligrove justification to annex Sarisa County.
Not even backer Duke Northmond could stop that. And even if they succeeded and repelled the counterattack, the other nobles would heap every insult imaginable.
"My lord! No need to listen! We lost, times are tough, but we're nobles! Honor is everything to us!"
But Viscount Trump glared back at the nobles.
"So we all die then? To pay that indemnity, we'd need to triple taxes—for years! Even the castle town's commoners and merchants would flee to Cligrove! And the debt to Duke Northmond? How do we handle that?"
"That's..."
The nobles who'd scolded him for dishonor fell silent at his words. The debt wasn't just to Cligrove.
They owed Duke Northmond too. Most was "support," but in this situation, even part of it was fatal.
"Even so, if we value honor, we can't!"
As the drawing room grew as noisy as a market, Count Sarisa spoke.
"Quiet."
"......"
"Those opposing Viscount Trump's proposal, raise your hands."
Four of the seven nobles raised theirs—over half. The count frowned briefly, but none noticed. He scanned their faces, then spoke indifferently.
"Majority opposes. The proposal is tabled. Leave."
At the dismissal, the nobles rose as one. But the count wasn't done.
"Viscount Trump, Baron Lewis, Baron George—stay. I have words for you."
That night, the drawing room lights burned late.
"Allow me to show you to your room, sir knight."
The maid—mistaking me for a knight, it seemed—walked cautiously ahead. No need to correct her here.
As I mulled various thoughts, the room she led me to was a bit larger than the one assigned back at the Cligrove manor. White walls adorned with gold trim, but unused for a while, it felt chilly.
"Shall I light the fire?"
"That would be good."
Only after my permission did she leave, soon returning with embers. She deftly kindled the hearth dominating one wall.
Whoosh!
With the fire lit, warmth began seeping into the cold room. This world's heating tech was ridiculously primitive—even mild weather left rooms like fridges.
"If you need anything, pull this cord."
I stopped her as she turned to go.
"Wait. A question."
"Yes, sir knight."
"Know of a peach tree house in the outer ward? They mentioned a kid named Rayleigh."
Her businesslike eyes widened round.
"That's... Mr. William's house... How do you...?"
So the man's name was William. Her reaction suggested this might go smoother than expected. Since I was here, I'd handle his request too. No deadline on the favor, so I'd taken it casually, but I hadn't thought the chance would come so soon.
"You know it, then."
The maid's eyes trembled uneasily. A knight from an enemy territory seeking an elite swordsman veteran—naturally alarming. But my intent was good. He'd asked me to deliver his effects, after all.
"Mind guiding me there? Mr. William asked me to."
Moments later, following her, we reached a house in the outer ward, away from the walls.
"This is it, sir knight..."
A fine two-story with backyard. As an elite swordsman veteran, William's family must've lived wealthier than average commoners. Probably why he'd turned bandit—to maintain it.
The maid glanced at me, then timidly knocked.
"Matilda! You there?"
Creeak—
A freckled brown-haired girl emerged. Her face lit up at the maid, then darkened sharply at me.
"Sara sis? Who's that behind you...?"
"A knight from Cligrove! More importantly, he brings news of Mr. William..."
"Really? About Father?"
Her face brightened instantly at "father's news." I felt a twinge of guilt, but it faded fast. If I hadn't killed him, he would've killed me.
"Mind if I come in? This isn't for outdoors."
"It's humble for a knight, but if you'd please..."
Humble? It was spacious, with a garden to boot—well above average, especially inside the walls.
"Sis? Who's this?"
Inside was a boy who looked like Matilda's little brother.
"Rayleigh... He brings Father's news."
"Father's news?"
The boy's face lit up. But...
Thud!
No point dragging it out. I set the sword, ring, and five gold coins on the table.
"Your father's effects."
"W-what...?"
"He's dead. Asked me to deliver these. His dying wish."
"Lies... right? Why would a knight prank us like this...?"
Calling it lies, tears still streamed down her face. She knew there was no reason for me to lie. No enemy knight would come just to deliver bad fake news.
"Believe it or not, your choice. I'm just fulfilling a request."
With his last wish done, my part was over. As I turned to leave, a small hand grabbed my sleeve.
"Wait!"
Matilda clung, tears falling.
"What?"
"Did Father... really... pass? Sorry... I know it's rude to a knight, but..."
"No reason to lie. I just respected his swordsmanship enough to honor his final request."
She wiped her tears. Her brown eyes still brimmed. Bowing to me,
"Thank you... for delivering Father's effects... This kindness... I'll repay it someday. Sir knight."