Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Preparing to Part with the Pig (1)
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The salted meat, packed full of hardtack and salt from the newly acquired salt mine, proved far more popular than expected.
In particular, the hardtack's qualities of being easy to store and simple to make had even the serfs firing up their village ovens to produce it themselves.
Selling hardtack like this to boost their income was surely a good thing.
And naturally, selling hardtack meant they'd receive payment in coin, and if any serf started thinking about paying taxes with that money...
Would that mark the beginning of 'taxes paid in currency,' the spark that ignited the formation of early modern free cities?
Lost in such idle thoughts, I was enjoying a brief moment of leisure when Baldt burst into the office.
Normally, the guy would knock first before entering...
Was something urgent happening?
"What is it?"
Baldt handed me the letter he was holding and replied.
"Sorry for barging in. Count Nant has issued an emergency muster order."
Why the hell was an emergency muster coming down now, all of a sudden?
Just a few days ago, the viscount's letter had said that while Viscount Schwein loved women and drink, I was advising him well enough that there were no issues...
To figure out what was going on, I snatched the letter and shot back at Baldt.
"Emergency muster? What are you talking about? A few days ago, Father said everything was fine."
"I don't know either. I asked the messenger who delivered it, and he just said, 'You'll know when you open the letter.'"
"Classified document? Damn it..."
I took the letter, which reeked of ominous vibes, and broke the seal.
And sure enough, it contained a disaster beyond my worst imaginings.
[At the royal ball, when I, Schwein von Nant, Count of Nant, courted the daughter of Count Zent, he declared he could not give his daughter to a fat, graceless man like me. Thus, I personally threw down the 'glove' to humble the Count who insulted my honor... My loyal vassal and guardian, Viscount Kroitel, advised that 'if Your Excellency achieves an honorable victory yourself, opinions will change.' (Omitted) Therefore, I, Schwein von Nant, for my own honor and your glory and wealth, intend to attack Count Helsman of Franch to the south of the County of Nant. Obey my command at once.]
If I hadn't proven my abilities since my heir days, and were just some greenhorn who inherited the count title, I'd be off quietly playing with women...
What the hell was that fathead thinking, heading to war for 'great deeds' just because a woman rejected him?
And against Count Helsman of Franch, no less... This was a catastrophe.
The other barons must be thinking the same. Yeah, they had to be...
After reading the letter, I grabbed Baldt's shoulder with a laugh and said,
"Baldt, my dear Baldt... I'm in deep shit. The Count got blatantly dumped by a woman, and now he's pissed enough to pick a fight with Count Helsman of Franch... What do we do...?"
Baldt shook his head and replied,
"What can we do... Your Excellency."
"At least there's a silver lining even if the sky falls—we've got to find a way out. Otherwise, we're done for."
With that, I mobilized as the Count's vassal, with no choice but to answer his summons.
**
Normally I'd take a carriage, but with the 'emergency muster,' I rode horseback to get there a day sooner.
A carriage lets you sit comfortably, but on horseback, you're driving the damn thing yourself—what a hassle...
Thanks to that, I covered the seven-day carriage route in just four days, but I never want to do it again.
Riding hard meant subsisting on hardtack, salted meat, and a bit of cheese for every meal...
The rock-hard hardtack was impossible to chew with human teeth, so I had to stew it into a soup with the salted meat and cheese.
The taste? Like choking down a thick, salty lump.
And when we camped overnight, we'd light a fire under some trees, taking turns on watch with Baldt and the escorts...
Just thinking about it makes me want to puke.
Mulling over those memories as I raced mindlessly toward the County of Nant, one of the escorts pointed ahead excitedly.
"I see a castle with the white lily and bluebird banner! We've arrived at Nant City, Your Excellency!"
Ha... Finally made it to Nant City?
On the way back, even if it means buying a carriage and lightening the load, I'm taking it easy. And the escorts deserve a special bonus.
"Good work, everyone! Before we enter Nant Castle tomorrow... Baldt, come here."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
I handed Baldt a pouch with a few silver coins and said,
"I probably shouldn't drink with you all... Once I head to the Count's residence, have your fun. And feel free to say it's on me."
Baldt grinned ear to ear and whispered,
"Thank you, Your Excellency..."
**
That night, Baldt, the escorts, and I unpacked in the lodgings arranged by the steward at the Count's residence.
Once we finished, Baldt took the escorts out drinking.
Back when I was lord of Windheim, I could've joined them...
But now it'd just make me look like a clueless baron.
I was exhausted anyway, so time for bed.
As I crawled under the covers to sleep, someone knocked.
"Who is it?"
"Left, Your Excellency. Sent by Viscount Kroitel. Sorry to disturb your rest, but could you come right away?"
Not the Count, but the viscount—a man of sound judgment. Calling me at this hour meant...
He must want to have an urgent, in-depth talk.
"I'll be out soon. Give me fifteen minutes."
**
The room where Viscount Kroitel, the second-in-command of the County of Nant, stayed was lavish and elegant.
Lacquered black wooden walls, a massive bed big enough for four, silk bedding, a sofa of fine cowhide, even a grand fireplace for show...
Far more luxurious than my estate in the Barony of Kroitel.
As I glanced around, the viscount entered.
It had been years, and he looked haggard—half his face worn away from dealing with Count Schwein, wrinkles deeper than before.
When I first transmigrated, despite the white hairs, he was a dignified middle-aged man...
Seeing him so aged tugged at my heartstrings.
"Father... You've gotten so thin."
"Unlike in the Barony of Kroitel, there's just so much to do here. I barely get four hours of sleep a day."
No matter how tough you are, less than four hours a day will wreck your health. Is he really going to drop dead like this?
"Father, you'll kill yourself like that... Even with all the work, you need at least six hours."
Viscount Kroitel waved it off.
"I'd love to, but there's too much for me to handle. His Excellency the Count... doesn't deal well with paperwork."
I looked worried, and he chuckled.
"It's tough, but... he trusts me, so it makes it worth it."
"I see."
"Yes. If things go well in the County of Nant, we can introduce four-field rotation next year. I've convinced the village headmen and bailiffs..."
It might seem late compared to the Barony of Kroitel, where we'd implemented it years ago with success...
But considering it took years after Flanders for four-field rotation to reach England's Norfolk region...
The viscount introducing it here in just a few years was impressively quick.
"Impressive. The serfs of the County of Nant will thrive now. Praise for His Excellency the Count will grow louder."
"Thank you, Siel. Thanks to you discovering this farming method... the Kroitels have prospered, and I've finally repaid my debt to the late Count Nant, however belatedly..."
Tears welled up in the viscount's eyes as he spoke.
In the eyes of the man over fifty flickered longing for the departed former Count Nant, pride in his achievements as guardian...
He wiped his tears with his sleeve and turned serious.
"Siel, straight to the point: Do you think we have a chance of winning this war?"
Count Helsman, decades of adept rule and battle-hardened...
Versus Count Nant, a lecher buried in chivalric romances...
Knights and professional soldiers might be comparable, and the bulk of peasant infantry similar...
But as the saying goes, lions led by an ass beat asses led by a lion. The Count's army was doomed.
"No. We'll lose for sure."
"I thought so... Especially against Helsman."
Silence fell between us.
Then, a brilliant idea struck me.
The current Count Nant had already shirked his duty to protect me after declaring war, and even extorted compensation.
Now that they knew we could field 3,000 standing troops, they'd pull every trick to weaken us.
Proof: He owed me a marriage to a daughter of a peer baron, yet stalled to keep my position shaky.
Sticking with this pig meant the Kroitels would only lose out.
And in the beautiful medieval dual-duty vassal contract, I'd have every right to betray him...
Having already smashed my back, I could swing a hammer at Viscount Schwein von Nant's head—as long as I didn't get caught, it was legal.
Like that comic line: 'If you don't get caught, it's not a crime.'
So...
"Father, but we can win this battle. Count Helsman won't fight us at full strength right away."
I'd smack him in the back, but deliver a 'glorious victory' that left only scars—without making Viscount Schwein von Nant suspect me.