Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Saving the Territory
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"This is the captain of the mercenary company."
A man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a rugged face that screamed, Aha! This guy's definitely a mercenary! bowed politely the moment he saw me. The mercenaries he'd brought were all waiting outside the castle walls.
"Greetings, my lord of noble blood."
Surprisingly, he was a fellow mercenary at heart... but that wasn't important right now.
"I heard you asked if you could enter the castle. Where are you mercenaries from?"
He introduced himself as Harding, captain of the Brown Eagle Mercenary Corps. Brown Eagle Mercenary Corps... It sounded downright hokey from my perspective, but apparently it carried some romantic flair in this world. The reason for "brown eagle"? Because the captain himself had brown hair and brown eyes, naturally.
He'd clearly dealt with nobles before—his manners were impeccable, belying his rough appearance. Of course, who in this world would dare be rude to a noble?
"We hail from the north. We were escorting a caravan bound for Harbon Castle... but the elves suddenly went berserk, and all the trade routes got canceled one after another."
So, with northern trade drying up completely, they'd become unemployed overnight. And this Harding wasn't just a lone wolf—he led a whole company. That's why they'd drifted south in search of work, washing up here.
"Elves going berserk, huh..."
I tapped the desk thoughtfully, and Harding, full of pent-up frustration, spilled everything he knew about the elves.
"The north is a total mess right now. The elves are sweeping through like a plague of locusts, leaving villages in ruins. Even caravans are too scared to travel, so the north won't hold out much longer."
"Doesn't the empire have troops up north?"
But he shook his head.
"This isn't like their usual raids. I'm not proud of it, but I've escorted northern caravans over a hundred times. Nothing's ever been this bad."
Northern elves rampaging, veteran mercenaries drifting into our territory. Mercenaries... Something clicked, an idea forming. As I pondered deeply, Harding dropped to his knees with a desperate look.
"We've been camping for two months straight! Please, show us mercy... We just need a place to stay for a few days and some proper food. We have money..."
Even mercenaries found weeks of outdoor living grueling. Plus, companies like theirs often had families in tow.
There was good reason for Harding's desperation. Most castles turned away entire companies, even if lone mercenaries might slip in. A lord like me deigning to meet them was unheard of—they'd be stopped at the gates.
Sure, a bit farther down the road there was a mercenary guild and the more mercenary-friendly Cligrove territory... but I held my tongue.
"Very well, you're permitted to enter the castle. But surrender all weapons to the guards."
My approval lit up his face.
"Oh! Thank you for your mercy, my lord!"
Harding bowed repeatedly even as he backed out under the curfew order. Finally, a proper place to rest. Once he was gone, I summoned Cutter, who was waiting outside.
They'd be inside the castle and disarmed, but I'd have Cutter keep tabs on them. Bonus if he bonded with them.
"You called, boss?"
"Yeah, got a job for you."
"Anything you say."
"Stick with those guys. Report back on where they stay, what they do—scope out their skills too."
It was a tricky ask, but he grinned.
"Leave it to me, boss. This is my specialty."
With Cutter off, I dove back into brainstorming ways to revitalize the territory. No special products, nothing to sell. Open up the lord's forest for hides?
"Nah... That's chump change."
Fine for personal income, but not to sustain a territory. What to sell... what to sell... What did we have in abundance? People?
"People... people...?"
The territory was overflowing with people. Not just civilians—soldiers whose contracts ended after the wars, now scraping by. Jobless grumblers turned unemployed. An idea hit: put them to use.
"Someone! Outside!"
"Yes, my lord!"
A guard rushed in from his post.
"Go fetch Baron George and the elite swordsmen. Right now."
Back in the day, Switzerland was a backwater with nothing but farming—towering mountains stifled other industries. So what did they do? Sold their bodies. Not literally, but their martial prowess as mercenaries.
"You summoned us!"
Baron George and the elite swordsmen arrived promptly. I sat them at the table and cut to the chase.
"Baron George."
"Yes, my lord."
"What do you think of mercenaries?"
His eyes flickered nervously. He knew I'd been one. But I wanted the raw truth, not flattery.
"Forget I was one. Tell me the typical noble view of mercenaries."
"Untrustworthy... roving bands of..."
"Future criminals, right?"
I finished for him, scratching the itch, and he beamed.
"Exactly!"
"Why's that?"
"...As you've seen before, my lord, they bolt at the first sign of trouble and avoid fighting however they can."
I clapped. Spot on. Earth's mercenaries prized reputation; this world's had digested theirs long ago. Nobles didn't trust them—cannon fodder for the front lines, nothing more.
No trust meant no easy access to cities or castles, poor treatment from nobles. Even mercenary guilds were just job boards. The profession was riddled with issues.
I turned to the swordsmen, who shot up awkwardly, unsure if they belonged in the lord's office uninvited.
"Sit. Just answer honestly. What do you think? Plenty do mercenary work these days, right?"
I'd heard as much before. Some swordsmen moonlighted as mercs. They nodded.
"Selfish scum with no sense of duty!"
Nobles and commoners alike saw mercenaries that way. That's why my idea:
"I'm starting a mercenary business."
"Pardon? My lord?"
Baron George yelped in shock; the swordsmen gawked, too stunned to speak. A noble running mercenaries? And a business with them?
"How many retired soldiers in the castle now?"
"Just over a hundred..."
Shrunk absurdly after two wars. The kicker: they weren't conscripts—standing army. Dozens of trained soldiers lounging jobless.
"We'll use them. Our neighbor's Cligrove. Merchants there hire escorts—ours."
Baron George paused. Cligrove was over three days away, not half a day. Why detour for our mercs? But he recovered, flashing a strained smile.
"Haha! Brilliant idea! Your foresight is beyond us, my lord!"
Awkward as hell. But... no other options. Solve unemployment and income at once.
Modern inventions? If easy, I'd have done it. Hell, I don't even know how to make soap.
*****
In Cligrove manor, Lenia set down her pen during a report and gazed quietly at the silver cloak beside her. She should've delivered it to Kyle ages ago, but since that day, seeing him had grown difficult. So she'd avoided him on purpose.
Why had she done that then? Swept up in a magical atmosphere? Gratitude for saving her multiple times? What if her old benefactor—the man from her past—had seen her in the garden that day?
"Haa..."
A sigh escaped Lenia's lips. The thought of using the cloak as an excuse to visit his territory crossed her mind several times a day. Just then, an imperial messenger arrived unexpectedly at the count's estate.
The rider, who'd galloped nonstop from the capital—500km to Cligrove in a week—checked Lenia's face before pulling the emperor's letter from his breast.
"A missive from His Imperial Majesty, rightful ruler of the Deford Empire."
Lenia took the letter and glanced at Edward. You couldn't just dismiss an imperial messenger rudely.
"See that the emperor's herald is entertained properly before sending him off."
"Of course."
Once Edward left with the messenger, Lenia unfolded the emperor's letter quietly.
[Ruling on the dispute between House Sarisa and Cligrove. Due to the base and dishonorable acts of Count Sarisa, We strip him of his title, and as he has no legitimate heir...]
It held exactly what she'd longed for. Amid the flowery language, it boiled down to one line: entrusting Sarisa Count and his territory's disposition to her, and ordering her to bring a vassal for the grant.
"Finally..."
Finally, a pretext for the territory. The detained Sarisa Count was stripped of rank—no issue executing him now. House Cligrove was now a proper great noble, with vassals under its banner.
Her face, downcast since Kyle left, brightened for the first time in ages. Now she could check on his territory's management—and go to the capital together. The perfect excuse she'd lacked.
"Someone outside!"