Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Preparations for War with Maxburg (1)
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In Europa, there are several qualities required of feudal lords like myself, but if I had to pick the most important one, there's just a single standout.
The ability to protect the safety and interests of the people in the territory you rule.
As long as you have that down pat, a medieval feudal lord can get away with anything short of marrying his own mother or daughter—acts that go beyond even the wildest incestuous fantasies.
That's why you'll occasionally see lords here who legally buy off a vassal's wife with compensation or even sleep with their male servants and still keep their seats.
But if a lord fails to defend his territory, no matter how kind or honorable he is, he'll be cast aside.
Therefore, I need to orchestrate a scheme that makes the Maxburg lord's qualifications as a ruler come into question.
To break through the board I've set up, your only political option left will be to take me down in war, Lord Maxburg.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The harbor of Blueport, where dozens of large merchant ships are docked, buzzed with energy regardless of whether it was a weekday, holiday, or even the Sabbath. It was filled with the raucous shouts of countless sailors and the haggling of nobles and commoners alike buying goods.
"Sir, why not give this a try? It's fine fabric straight from Spania. Have a dress made for your wife, and she'll love it. We deal directly with, ahem, Count Kroitel's merchant guild. Seeing you here, I'm offering it at a special price."
"Hey now! Do you even know what happens here if you casually drop the Count's name like that?"
"Don't even get me started. One of my guys badmouthed the Count a few days ago and came back beaten black and blue. In other territories, you'd get a free drink for insulting the lord, but here? Just a beating. I knew the risks when I came. Look at this color... amazing..."
"Ahem, ahem... Fine, have one of each type delivered to the Felt family estate. The steward will settle the bill."
Behind the docks where ships were moored stood the food stalls I'd set up.
They sold sandwiches made with rye-and-wheat bread stuffed with freshly salted meat or herring, along with plain bread and grilled herring.
"Come one, come all! Sandwiches made by Count himself! Two for one copper coin! The salted meat ones are one sandwich per coin!"
"How about pickled herring with seaweed soup? Packed with barley to fill you up, and it pairs perfectly with the herring for your liver!"
"Nonsense! For Blueport, it's all about the herring. Herring! Herring, how about it? Grilled herring is the best."
"That's good, but try these sugar pastries you can only get cheap here in Blueport. A box of twenty for one silver coin!"
Even on paper, you could tell it was a thriving city, but as the saying goes, seeing it once beats hearing about it a hundred times. Witnessing it firsthand hit home far more.
About ten minutes in, as we ventured deeper, I started seeing people with fair skin and light blond or brown hair—different from the Franch or Elrain folk.
They spoke in Britannian, which sounded almost like English, dressed in ragged clothes or mismatched flashy outfits, and boasted roughly about being pirates.
"Ahoy!! What a prosperous port. If we hold out here a bit and raid just one sugar-laden merchant ship..."
"Shut it, you idiot. Get on the wrong side of Kroitel's merchant guild, and even the back-alley dealers won't touch you. Cut off from them, we'd all have to head to the North Sea. You mad bastard."
"Aw, I was just talking big, brother. No need to get all worked up."
"Keep it up, and I'll tell the captain to make you scrub the decks."
"Why, you... frozen-pants bastard..."
Seeing these loudmouths, I held out my family-crest-embossed sword from its scabbard at my side and said,
"Count Kroitel here. Where's the captain?"
Their faces froze as they stared at me, then they replied with surprising politeness.
"Your Excellency, heh heh... Head inside from here."
"Thanks."
"No problem. But, uh... you're not planning to hang us all as pirates, right?"
"Don't worry. Since I called you here, I'll overlook it this time. But if you even joke about that again..."
I mimed slicing my throat with my thumb, and Ensign Mark, following behind me, pressed his blade lightly against the man's neck, drawing a trickle of blood.
"I'll rip your guts out. Or maybe torment you until you beg for death. And I'll track down your family too."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Next, I followed the sailors' guidance into the captain's cabin where the captain awaited.
Aside from where the walls met the floor, there was no mold—proof that this ship, belonging to top-tier pirates, was well-maintained.
Inside the cabin, the admiral of the pirate fleet stood dressed in a flashy blue captain's hat and a black fabric coat embroidered with golden thread, flanked by captains in equally ornate attire.
I swiftly took a seat opposite the captain and got down to business.
"So, Captain. Seeing you've come all this way, my proposal must appeal to you."
"Yes, it does. Other Britannians tell us not to pillage and just guard their coasts and merchant ships, but Your Excellency offers 100 gold coins per ship per month—plus all the loot. A pirate who doesn't covet that isn't a pirate."
"I like your honesty. Ensign Mark, unroll the map."
With that, Mark spread out a rough map of northern Europa.
Then, I dipped my quill in the black inkwell I'd brought and began drawing lines as I explained.
"But as you know, I'm no dirt-digging merchant. So naturally, I expect something in return. First off, for the next three to six months, use your pirate fleet to patrol the entire Maxburg coastline and raid every ship flying the Maxburg family flag."
"Understood. But resupply... where?"
"I'll handle all your resupply from Blueport. List what you need, and once my territory's treasurer verifies it, it'll be provided."
"So basically, we just show up and get massive income... Can we really trust this...?"
Tempted by the great terms but trying to haggle up their value... Very smart. Pirates who maintain their gear meticulously and negotiate like this are reliable.
To ease their doubts, I need to lay out the clauses that disadvantage them.
That way, it feels like a fair give-and-take.
"Fine. In exchange, if you enter within three days' sail of Blueport, you must fly the flag marking you as allied forces. That way, our incoming merchant ships won't panic."
"Makes sense. Within three days' sail, merchant ships heading to Blueport, Britannia, the North, and Maxburg would mix in... Dividing it like that is smart."
"Good. And within that zone, you have a duty to eliminate any pirates attacking Kroitel or Northern Alliance merchant ships. Slack off, and the contract ends immediately—with my merchant guild retaliating against you."
The captain began trembling at my words.
And rightly so. Whether pirate or lord, anyone who messes with my territory's merchants or people pays dearly.
A few months back, a baron from another territory cheated our merchants and folk, so I cut off sugar shipments to his lands for two months.
He ended up buying what he needed for upcoming banquets from other lords at triple price, bitter as it was, and went bankrupt.
If I do that to a noble like a baron, imagine what I'd do to lawless pirates...
The captain looked at me with a wronged expression and asked,
"So you're paying us handsomely to defend the coast and keep Maxburg in check? The math doesn't add up..."
"You should hear a man out. For each enemy caravel merchant ship: 200 gold coins and 200 kilos of sugar. For each galley merchant ship: 300 gold and 250 kilos of sugar. Plus a bonus of 500 gold per ten ships sunk."
"Is that for real?"
"It is. Check the contract for the rest."
He read the contract in front of me and said,
"Wait, not even long-haul trade, and you want us sitting around for a whole month? We'll die! Scurvy'll rot our gums and make us bleed out. This scurvy thing hits when you're on a ship too long..."
"Yeah, gums melt, blood pours. Cures quick once you're off the ship. But untreated, it kills."
Scurvy was the biggest scourge of the Age of Sail.
Starting with lethargy, progressing to subcutaneous bleeding and melting gums, until even minor illnesses prove fatal.
In an era where countless died at sea, it claimed a huge toll.
Yet the cure was ridiculously simple. To the uninformed, though, it'd fetch a fortune as a magic potion against manpower loss and death's terror.
With that, I placed on the table my secret weapon—prepared to sell to sailors across Europa—and said,
"One spoonful daily prevents scurvy. Tested on prisoners already; it works great."
Hearing that, the captain and officers' eyes lit up as they inspected, touched, and even sniffed the remedy.
"Looks ordinary..."
"Nah, you think a count would lie? And lying about scurvy right to our faces? We'd never stand for it."
"Right, captain or not, nobody beats scurvy."
Smiling at them, I said,
"Expensive stuff, this. One silver for two months' worth. But I guarantee: take it properly, and no one dies of scurvy. If a crewman dies anyway—under proper use—I'll pay 50 gold per man."
"...Seriously?"
"I swear on the name of Siel von Kroitel. And this offer's just for you..."
I spoke softly, and they perked up their ears.
"You know my territory: merit gets serfs nobility, even. And I reckon you lot could satisfy me. Do that, and I'll grant you honors beyond your station—riches, glory. No more 'Ahoy!' and weird pirate greetings. Become nobles respected and revered by all... Your crews too: land, wives, settlements fitting their loyalty, all with my help."
They exchanged glances but said nothing.
No dramatic "We're free spirits who need no such things!" meant that if I built maximum trust over the next six months...
They'd join me for sure.
Hell, even serial killers or thieves would flock if I promised officer ranks and power.
"Think it over. Your fleet's under contract with me starting today. No complaints? Then hustle, rack up results, and drain my coffers. I'll pay for performance—but make damn sure you choke Maxburg's seas and starve their merchants."