Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Battle of Esalon Plains (7)
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In diplomacy known as war, whether you succeed or fail, there is always a price to pay.
However, that price is usually borne not by nobles or knights like me, but by those without power.
Why? Because when war breaks out, nobles like me are clad in expensive armor that costs a fortune, so we rarely get hurt or killed.
Even if captured as prisoners, as long as we pay the right amount of money, we're spared the risks that commoners or soldiers face—being killed or tortured at any moment.
That's why some foolish nobles indulge in the pleasure of war without responsibility, but I can't afford to...
Because...
"Baron, sir, I'll now read the list of the fallen and the severely wounded."
I have to confirm those who took on the responsibility of this war in my place.
"Yes, begin."
Upon hearing that, a knight splendidly attired in armor bowed his head to me in respect before carefully reading from the document.
"Knight Sir Florin, fallen. Knight Sir William, severely wounded. Captain Zeke, severely wounded. Lieutenant Croi, fallen. Lieutenant Mandalheim, fallen. Ensign Celt Bierken, fallen. Ensign Hein Mais, fallen. Sergeant Major Jack, fallen..."
About a minute passed as he continued reading the list in a flat tone, and then, with no more names left, the knight announced loudly.
"That's all—20 fallen, 10 severely wounded! Enemy casualties are beyond count. Additionally, prisoners include Baron Santoburg, Baron Celt, and 20 knights below them, plus 200 soldiers!"
With those words, the knights who had been listening to the report burst into applause and cheers.
"Hooray!! Long live Baron Kroitel!!"
"Isn't this the best possible outcome? Ha ha... Unbelievable. Bierhill, you lost, so hand over those five silver coins."
"Fine, but when the camp merchants arrive, I'll pay with drinks instead."
"Sure, I'll put a hole in your wallet for you."
By the numbers alone, one could say we'd achieved the best possible result.
We clashed with 3,000 enemy soldiers on the battlefield and emerged victorious with only 20 fallen.
In historical battles of this scale, a commander who lost only 1% of his forces would be hailed as a 'great general'...
In other words, no matter how you sliced it, I'd produced the absolute best outcome I could manage.
Thinking that way, I felt a tiny bit of the guilt I'd harbored yesterday over those who died on the battlefield melt away.
Still, they were soldiers who died by 'my orders' all the same...
Before reveling in the joy of victory, it was right to express gratitude and regret for them.
With that sentiment, I raised my right hand to quiet the cheering knights and spoke.
"Before we celebrate, let us pay our respects and sorrow to our bravest comrades who fell in this war. Everyone, extend your cups."
As the knights held out their cups, soldiers waiting behind poured wine into them.
Once the wine was poured, before toasting the victory, I spoke first with regret in my voice.
"To honor our brave comrades who fought valiantly, and in thanks for the victory their sacrifice brought us. With that in mind, drink."
As my words ended, everyone seemed to think of their fallen brothers-in-arms, faces tinged with sorrow as they quietly drained their cups.
Since I wasn't good with wine, I'd specially ordered a sweeter vintage, but in my melancholy mood, it tasted bitterly unpleasant.
Confirming that I and all the knights had emptied our cups, I smiled and said,
"Gentlemen, we have won a perfect victory and successfully extracted massive reparations, territory, and mines from the enemy."
At those words, the knights set down their cups and erupted into fervent applause and cheers.
"Hooray!!"
"Reparations, territory, and mines!! Incredible, sir—the count will be thrilled to hear this!!"
"Sniff... To show such splendor in this old knight's final battle... This old man has no regrets even in death..."
I raised my left hand to calm them and continued.
"However, it's too early to smash the wine barrels and feast! Though all battles in this war are over, the war's aftermath remains. So tomorrow and the day after, we'll recover the fallen's remains, then summon the camp merchants for the celebration! Dismissed!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In this era's battlefields, there are two main reasons for recovering bodies.
One is to honor and mourn the fallen by giving allied corpses proper funerals.
Though transport limits prevent taking them home for burial, holding funerals on the battlefield and delivering their effects provides great comfort to their families.
The other is to plunder the weapons and armor the enemy carries.
Corpses stripped this way are classified by their former status.
Nobles' bodies are buried somewhat respectfully in dug graves, while ordinary soldiers' are left after stripping their gear.
But knowing that leaving corpses invites plagues, I ordered even commoners' bodies to be cremated simply and buried.
After cleaning the battlefield over two days, the camp merchants everyone—nobles and soldiers alike—had awaited finally arrived.
I'd done all sorts of business myself, but due to my circumstances, I'd rarely dealt with camp merchants, so this was essentially my first time.
My first impression upon seeing them? A walking theme park for men.
Carts loaded with soldiers' favorites—bread, meat, beer, wine—a blacksmith to repair damaged weapons, entertainers like clowns and bards for amusement, and even hordes of prostitutes for 'adult fun'...
Is this why soldiers and nobles alike waited so eagerly for them?
As I watched their procession, a fat man who looked like their leader and every bit the money-grubber appeared before me, rubbing his hands.
"Baron Kroitel, congratulations on your victory. I'm Shylock, head of the Golden Honey Merchant Guild. Thank you for summoning us today, heh heh heh... A small token here..."
And the guy offered me a small pouch brimming with silver coins.
Judging by the size, about 100 silvers... Accepting it meant turning a blind eye to them gouging the troops.
But I coldly pushed away his proffered hand and said,
"I don't need bribes. In return, if you overcharge my soldiers, I won't stand for it. And I don't need women either."
Hearing that, the camp merchant gave me a dumbfounded look before slyly threatening,
"But refusing our goodwill like this..."
"Think such threats work on me? Shall I relay that exact message to Hamburg's apprentice? And..."
I raised my hand and beckoned Ella, who stood nearby.
As Ella approached, the merchant seemed to misunderstand on his own, nodding before cautiously saying,
"If you already have such a beautiful maid... Our girls really can't compare... Understood. For the apprentice's sake, we'll take just five times the goods instead."
Refusing would tank soldier morale, and considering transport costs from the nearest free city plus his expected profits...
"Fine, exactly five times. Any more, and I won't let it slide. In exchange, take all the weapons my soldiers looted from the enemy at good prices. Now, get set up."
The camp merchant pondered, then brightened—realizing buying my weapons would still profit him—and replied,
"We'll serve your soldiers to the best of our ability."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The camp merchants swiftly rearranged their wagons before our camp, quickly setting up facilities for all 3,000 of our soldiers.
To whet appetites, they roasted whole oxen and pigs on spits, lining beer and wine barrels alongside.
A bit farther off, clowns and bards performed by the bonfire...
And even farther, tents for discreet pleasures... no, women's moans echoing from 'tents'.
Knight say mingling with soldiers here lowers their dignity, so they summon women to their private tents...
Truly, these medieval macho types know no restraint...
Watching knights and soldiers alike, I tore into a roasted beef leg and sighed,
"Man, they're really having a blast..."
Ella, attending me at my side, smiled and replied,
"Yes, master. Everyone's enjoying themselves so much. Like the festival in Windheim back then... Remember? You partied with the villagers too."
"Yeah. Lucky it was just you and Zakri there... That guy, in high spirits on festival night, puked all over me, remember?"
"Yes, and the next day he came begging, 'Young master, I've committed a mortal sin! Spare me!!' And then you..."
"Right, I said, 'I was drunk too and don't remember a thing. Were you dreaming? Blasphemous dream at that.' And let him off."
Talking about Zakri brought back memories of first arriving in this territory, desperate to survive.
Back then, I'd done everything to avoid the academy...
Spreading four-field rotation, making sugar—it was tough but rewarding.
Now a baron, it's hard to reunite with Zakri from my Windheim lord days...
No, I've dragged all those people I helped thrive into the 'battlefield,' reasons be damned...
We won a massive victory no one could top, but honestly, it feels a bit off.
Whether sensing my mood or not, Ella refilled my wine and said,
"You were so cool back then. And now, you're caring for these soldiers just like you did the villagers. Sir Baldt told me—the merchants usually charge twenty times more, but you ordered just five."
I downed the wine Ella poured in one go and said,
"Have to, so the soldiers keep following me. Can't let them get fleeced for a measly 100 silvers."
Ella gave a gentle smile, quietly refilling my cup again.
This wine... richer than I thought?
After that, Ella kept sharing fond Windheim memories, assuring me the soldiers felt grateful like the serfs, comforting me.
About an hour of pleasant drinking later, my vision started to blur slightly.
I tried walking back to my tent under my own power, but drunk on the momentum, my steps staggered uncontrollably.
Seeing me like that, Ella smiled faintly, quietly supporting me back to the tent.
Inside, she removed my armor, then whispered softly in my ear.
"Master, Ella wants to comfort you after the wounds of battle."