Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Preparing to Part with the Pig (2)
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There is a saying that symbolizes the prosperity of the House of Count Nant.
"A blessed land where golden wheat sways like waves from one end of the horizon to the other."
In truth, there are no fields that stretch quite to the horizon's edge, but the saying persists because our territory's farms outperform those of other fiefdoms by a wide margin.
The vast plains lining the Rainer River, which cuts through the center of the territory, yield 1.3 to 1.4 times more harvest per acre than the farmlands of other counties of comparable size.
Moreover, the Rainer's abundant flow means that as long as there's space to clear new fields, we can cultivate without ever worrying about water—no reservoirs required.
Thanks to these blessed natural conditions, there are even tales among our nobility of serfs with a pioneering spirit who cleared vast farmlands, founded villages, and earned recognition as knights.
Of course, you can't become a knight just by claiming land these days...
This backdrop allows the House of Count Nant to live more affluent and prosperous lives than other baronial houses.
And with abundant food and wealth naturally comes the means to raise fine knights and soldiers. As a result, we've grown into a formidable territory boasting a thousand knights.
In contrast, Count Helsman commands only about six hundred knights, and even if he conscripts every last infantryman, his forces barely top ten thousand.
Since one knight can handle ten men, even a mindless charge would leave Count Helsman defeated.
With that in mind, I seized the moment to persuade the viscount before me, steering both the "Count Nant" and "Count Helsman" into a war of wounds alone. I opened my mouth to begin.
"First, according to intelligence from Hamburg's guildmaster, Count Helsman clashed fiercely last year with Count Charlesheim of Franch and Romania. He's recovered somewhat from those wounds, but not fully."
The viscount scowled at that, but I pressed on undeterred.
"Here's the crucial part. Listen carefully."
"Go on."
"When Count Charlesheim fought Count Helsman, Viscount Mentl—Helsman's right-hand man—took a lance from an unknown knight, fell from his horse, and suffered grave injuries. Just days ago, those wounds worsened, and he died."
The viscount's expression brightened at the news.
No matter how fiercely leonine and serpentinely cunning a commander Count Helsman might be, losing his right arm naturally weakens him.
"And from what I know, Helsman's rampage through Franch owed much to the knights led by Viscount Mentl, his sharpest spear. Doesn't that mean we can take on even those famed Helsman knights?"
"True. Our Nant knights may fall a bit short, but they're powerful in their own right. Without Viscount Mentl, we could hold our own head-on."
He spoke in feigned nonchalance, but his face betrayed uncontainable joy at the shift from "a battle to avoid at all costs" to "a fight we can win."
He tried to play it cool, but his grin threatened to split his ears.
Yet Viscount Kroitel before me was no pushover.
If I wrapped up the persuasion here and left, he'd undoubtedly restart the force analysis by morning, claiming it "insufficient."
After analyzing, he'd reasonably conclude that while we hold the overall advantage, having Schwein von Nant as supreme commander drags the outcome down.
To deny him that analytical leisure, I thrust forth the letter summoning me urgently and snapped like a whip.
"Look. Only we and some in the palace know for now, but this absurd scandal will soon spread across Elrain—no, to Romania and Franch! If it breaks in our current state..."
The viscount sobered and replied gravely.
"In the worst case, His Excellency Count Nant might not even marry a lady of equal station. And all his vassals in the County of Nant... we'd be branded fools following a count too inept to wed."
"Exactly. If we bear this dishonor... not just me, but all the nobles..."
Back in the 1980s—no, even into the early 2000s—practically everyone in Korea got married.
Fail to wed, and society or your workplace treated you like some defective adult, unworthy of full respect.
That cultural hangover lingers; even now, you'll see posts online from mid-thirties bachelors driven mad by moms suddenly pushing blind dates and nagging about marriage...
How much heavier, then, in a society where marriage carries far greater weight than in Korea? Failing to marry...
It's proof positive you're damaged goods.
That's the thrust of what I said.
"From His Excellency the Count down, we'll all be scorned as fools unfit even for nobility."
Understanding dawned; the viscount paled and stared at me.
"That endangers the Count's rule itself. No matter our sworn loyalty, who would follow a lord who heaps such shame upon us?"
To help firm his resolve, I declared firmly.
"That's why we have no choice but to fight. It's unavoidable, Father. The moment dishonor descends, we're no longer nobles."
"...I see. Then let me ask once more: Do you think we can win this war?"
It's going according to plan.
Count Helsman and Count Nant will drag each other into the mud, emerging only with wounds...
No—Nant will probably eke out a razor-thin victory, leaving Schwein with his "honor." Though he'll lose his men's trust, of course.
Stifling a bubbling laugh, I answered gravely.
"Do you truly believe His Excellency Count Nant so incompetent that a thousand knights can't overcome six hundred toothless ones?"
"No. Even on his first campaign, if he just pretends to heed the knights' advice..."
"Then victory is certain, Father."
A bright smile bloomed anew on the viscount's face.
His gaze held not a shred of doubt toward me.
So even if it's for the future of House Kroitel—for protecting the serfs and vassals you love so dearly...
Twisting that trust and faith toward ruin—for plunging the count he's staking his life to protect into the abyss...
It stung, deeply.
Which only hardened my resolve: Though I'll drive the count to death by my own hand, I'll safeguard Kroitel, the territory I must protect. With that, I told the viscount.
"Worry not. I, Siel von Kroitel, will exert every effort to defend Kroitel. Victory in this war is for him. See you at tomorrow's strategy meeting, Father."
Normally, one would say "to protect His Excellency and the county," so mentioning my territory struck him oddly; he eyed me quizzically.
But he soon smiled and replied.
"Right. Until the strategy meeting tomorrow. I trust your plan."
I left his room, returned to my lodgings, and ate a late dinner.
I tasted nothing that night.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next day, I entered the meeting room right on time for the count's summons.
I'd figured everyone would arrive fashionably late, so I was punctual—only to find the count and other barons already deep in heated debate.
"Baron Sercland!! What nonsense is that?! Crossing lances with Count Helsman is rightfully the duty of our Hyber barony's forces!!"
"Nonsense! Only our Sercland barony can bear the vanguard's weight. We've armored even our horses for moments like this. As Baron Hyber knows, the difference between mounted and unarmored is night and day."
Baron Hyber trembled but mustered no retort.
Watching this farce, I seriously wondered if they even intended to win.
Even in power struggles, shouldn't they yield a bit for a conquest war?
Refusing mutual concessions leads only to ruin...
Even more absurd: Schwein watching it all with a "They're fighting for me..." grin.
I ignored the bickering barons and took my seat.
Spotting me, Count Schwein boomed.
"Quiet, all! First, Viscount Kroitel—any thoughts?"
I had plenty, but feigned ignorance.
"I'm not sure. What's the situation?"
The count, eager to flaunt his brilliance, snatched his gold-plated tactical baton and jabbed the map.
"We'll strike Helsman City, the heart of his domain. To that end, we must first smash Count Helsman and his army. With more knights than them, we'll fight on their turf... the Sand Plains."
Hateful as Schwein was, this tactic made sense.
Our biggest edge—heavy cavalry knights—demanded the widest plains to shine.
Even a sluggard rolls downhill given the slope; the count had a brain for proper tactics after all.
No—someone scripted it for him to recite.
"Please continue."
"All agree thus far, but we haven't settled the vanguard. Care to take it?"
In most armies, "vanguard" is a heroic, prestigious post.
Thus, the count's offer signaled trust—an offer impossible to refuse outright...
Yet as the sage said, "The gentleman is hated by the wicked, loved by the good." Being loved by lecherous evil like Schwein would taint me irreparably.
Precisely: When Schwein inevitably crumbles from his blunders, I'd crumble too.
To avoid that, distance myself maximally from Schwein...
For that, I needed...
"I'll gladly take point and advance first—but my unit requests independent movement."
Schwein, more irked by my reasoning than the refusal, barked.
"Why?!"
"The county mobilizes 15,000 infantry and 1,500 knights total. We bring 3,000 infantry and 50 knights. As our composition shows, Kroitel fights infantry-focused, with different doctrine."
I spelled it out—our armies differ fundamentally; joint ops hurt us both—but Schwein stared blankly, uncomprehending.
He geared up to snap, but vanguard-hungry Baron Sercland beat him, speaking faster.
"Your Excellency, Viscount Kroitel is right. Our knight-heavy force doesn't mesh with theirs. Grant his separate action."
"Is that so? Then..."
With the autonomy I craved secured, I devised a ploy to sit out the Nant-Helsman clash.
This way, even if blood and limbs flew, we'd return unscathed...
Good things come to those who hurry. Seizing Baron Sercland's opening, I boomed at the count.
"Your Excellency, grant us separate action, and after you rout Count Helsman... we'll encircle Helsman City to bar his retreat!!"