Greed Invites Disaster
Greed invites ruin!
Interesting. Wasn't the Crusade supposed to be a war between the Arabs and the West?
In the year 3559, the crusaders definitely marched off on a holy war to reclaim Jerusalem.
In 3562, the Westerners won.
And then several decades slipped by. For reasons unknown, those Seljuk bastards showed no interest in hunting for Jerusalem and started pushing north instead.
Our mercenary friends in Prize hurried north to block them, and things were actually going well! They were winning.
"So why on earth did these morons come here?"
"Honestly, I couldn't say."
From atop the walls of Mudo, I stared in disbelief at the columns marching beneath the banner of the cross.
The Second Crusade, crawling all the way up here? They are crusaders, right?
A telegram had just arrived reporting that the wall our mercenary friends had raised in the distance had been breached — that was the whole reason I'd come.
"Just how many Muslims do they think are here, to march all this way with an army that size?"
"Do they wipe out every heathen they find?"
"No? Not as far as I know."
It's not as if every religion that calls people heathens exterminates them all, right?
Ah. These crazy sons of— don't tell me. It's a trade city, so it's swimming in money. They came here to rob us, didn't they?
And how did they even get here? There are half a dozen kingdoms between Western Europe and this place. Who just lets them walk through?
"This isn't exactly a wide castle, you know. You think it'll hold?"
"Look to your right."
"Ah... right."
There it stood — our absurdly towering fortress wall, jutting up proud and defiant. We'd once test-fired cannons at it just to see how much punishment it could take, and the cannons didn't stand a chance.
I'd stake my life on this: even if cannons reached Europe, the walls would crumble long before the defenders ran out of gunpowder. Actually, it'd be the attackers who'd run out first.
We should hold just fine until high-explosive shells come along.
Ah, though the gates are another question. When I get back, I'll have to order them to build a barbican.
"Hm? That rider coming up — a herald?"
"Shall we just shoot him?"
"Aw, come on. You don't shoot a herald."
"...We shouldn't?"
I haven't met a single one of these people who's said anything sensible yet, but you still have to hear them out.
And so a parley ground was arranged, roughly midway between the two camps, out in the open field.
"Hm. Bit bare, isn't it?"
"I'll go see to it."
"Mm."
If you agreed to meet at noon, shouldn't you arrive at noon? Where's the courtesy? The courtesy. Should I deliver mine via lead ball, with compliments attached?
「Clip-clop, clip-clop」
In the end, our people arrived first and pitched a tent, set out tables and chairs, and brought food along for good measure.
"You've come well prepared. Thank you."
"It's only natural, my lady."
I was just settling in to wait, munching on grapes, when figures began emerging from the other side and splitting off to either flank.
Why are so many of them coming? A summit, maybe? Word was the king himself would appear.
Is that actually a king? His helmet does look like a crown. And how do you even make armor in colors like that? I'd love to learn how they did it.
「Thud」
The wretched man showed up obscenely late and then moved at an obscenely leisurely pace, so the two sides finally faced each other well past noon.
"Are you the representative of that fortress?"
The tall wall, or the walls of Mudo? Either way, they're connected, so who cares.
"I'm the representative."
"Your manners are lacking."
"Yours don't seem much better?"
There must be a good few decades between us. Where did this whelp learn to be so cheeky?
"I am Conrad III, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire."
"I am, um, Daehan's... hold on a moment."
What was my title again?
'What exactly am I supposed to call myself here?'
'Mm. Why not say you're a god?'
'A god, my foot. Do you want to start an actual religious war?'
'Anything else?'
'Hmm. In terms they'd understand... how about "holy maiden"?'
'Ugh. Anything besides that?'
'They call their man a king, and "my lady" hardly carries the same weight, does it?'
Hm... this is a little embarrassing.
"I am, um, Daehan's... holy maiden."
"PWAHAHA!"
He's laughing in the most irritating way possible. Hoo... how humiliating.
"Anyway. What do you want? An entire army, in somebody else's country?"
"We have come to protect this city from the followers of Islam."
"Pfft."
What kind of horse-dung nonsense is that? Funniest thing I've heard in years.
"Why are you laughing?"
The man's pride must be stung — he's scowling.
"Shouldn't you go do that in Jerusalem? That sort of thing?"
"Are there not Christians here who suffer persecution!"
"And why is that your problem?"
"As the army of God, it is only what we are bound to do!"
Hm? Did he not understand?
"No, I mean — why are you doing it in someone else's country?"
"This is the will of God."
"Fine then. If we gather up all the Christians and send them out to you, will you leave?"
"Ah— no, that is—!"
Yep. Total nonsense, as expected. Look at him flustered. If you came for money, why can't you just say so?
"Then we should gather the people and send them out?"
"No!"
"Then what do you want?"
"..."
Oh dear, look at him racking that little brain of his.
"We shall defend the city for you. You need only pay a just compensation."
Defend it from what? We're the stronger side here! Fine, fine. Let's play along and hear how much money he wants.
"How much?"
"A toll. That is, you shall pay tribute."
Is he the Beggar King or what, being this brazen? Normally you'd have a subordinate do the dirty work, wouldn't you? Look — even that advisor fellow behind him is squirming in his seat.
"This isn't even your country. What tribute? Just tell me honestly how much you need. If it's money, I'll give you whatever you ask."
"GYAAH! What insolence is this!"
"Hm. How about we withdraw before anyone has to die for nothing?"
"You dare!"
「CRASH」
Is that man — did he just flip the table over? What is this, are we about to duel?
"Shall we settle it with a duel, then?"
"What duel? Do you take this for a court of judgment!?"
Huh? So a duel isn't just... fighting? It's a trial?
"Ahh, well, I can't be expected to know every country's customs. No need to get worked up over something like that?"
"Ignorant savage."
"Ugh. What is that smell. Smells like someone soiled himself."
It really is him. Does the man never wash? Impossible to share a field with.
"So you would have war after all?"
"No? You're the one who marched an army here. If you simply went home, there'd be no war at all, would there?"
"Let the negotiation be recorded as broken."
"Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh."
So this man never had any intention of listening to me in the first place? No wonder he showed up so ridiculously late.
"I shall take you captive, and you shall squirm beneath me for the rest of your days..."
"What did you say?"
What is this perverted freak babbling about? I'm seriously tempted to just bore a hole through his skull right here.
"All of you, prepare to die. I'll have no mercy."
"You'd better go wash yourself and wait. You're the one who should."
"I don't need to wash — I'm perfectly clean. You go scrub yourself. The stench has been a trial just standing here."
"GYAAAH!"
Ugh, let's go home. For all the heralds and parleys we've sat through, not a single one has ended in a sane conversation. Not one.
"Let's go, everyone. We've got a guest to greet properly, don't we?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
They looked like they debated long and hard over snapping all those necks right then and there. Good thing they held back.
"Later, let's send them plenty of gifts. Lead ones."
"Yes, ma'am!"
They have plenty of cavalry, sure — but what exactly is a cavalry force supposed to do in a siege? Once all the foot soldiers are dead, I suppose they'll at least flee quickly.
And then, a day passed. Then two.
Those plague-ridden fools have spent an entire month and counting doing nothing but preparing for a siege.
At one point I suspect they'd planted a spy among us — there was an actual clash between the Christians and the Muslims in the city, and some people had to be expelled. The dirty tricks never stop.
"When do you think they'll actually attack? Why all the dithering?"
"Nearly ready, I'd expect?"
Even the kids were getting bored, watching from atop the wall while nibbling on jerky and fruit. We could hit them right now, easily — it's just that hitting them precisely would be tricky, so we're waiting.
"My lady, there's something I'm curious about."
"I'm not all-knowing, you know?"
"Hahaha. Of course not."
Has word already gotten around that I'm an ignoramus?
"Those things they're building — I believe those are weapons we only ever read about from ancient times?"
Ah, right. These kids were born long after we switched to gunpowder weapons. Some of them have never even seen a trebuchet. Wow, generational gaps...
"Mm. Genuinely ancient weapons, those."
"Why would they throw their lives away like they don't matter?"
"Because they haven't been shot at yet."
"Do you think anyone will actually reach these walls?"
"They'll reach them. They just won't climb them."
Far off in the distance, so very many men are about to die without ever getting close. And the ones who do get close will die to the bombs all the same.
"And this city must not fall. Not ever."
"Why not?"
"Money and gold, I could hand over in any amount they wanted. But there's a temple inside these walls, isn't there?"
"Ah..."
Truthfully, money is nothing. If their intent were right, I'd give them every last coin. But do I believe those men would come in, loot, and quietly turn around and leave? No. They're plunderers wearing the name of God like a badge.
They'd raze the city and drag the people off in chains. I can never, ever let them past this wall.
"When the battle ends, all that will remain of them is misery. Etch it well into your eyes. War is not the slightest bit cheerful."
"Yes, ma'am..."
You won't be able to see it, but when the Great War comes, it will be far, far more terrible than this.
"The workers are withdrawing."
"They'll rest today and start tomorrow, I suppose?"
"If anything, a night assault would favor them."
"Would it matter? Even if their siege towers got close, the bombs would blow them all to splinters anyway."
Just how many men did they bring with them?
The next day, the crusade began its advance.
I decided to meet them at the walls of Mudo myself. I couldn't very well leave the kids out here to hold the line alone.
"Cannons ready?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Jutting from the muzzles of the weapons called cannons were enormous, imposing wooden shafts. Our cannons fired not only shells but missiles as well — logs with fins set midway along their length and iron-capped heads.
Mm. Vicious-looking things, those.
"Anchor them down properly, and let's start with the siege engines. Smash those, and they may actually pull back."
With no recoil-absorbing mount to speak of, the cannons had to be fixed solidly in place somewhere. Otherwise the thing would fly backward and flatten whoever stood behind it.
"Fire as each piece is ready!"
"FIRE!"
「BOOM! KABOOM! BOOM!」
The detonations swallowed everything ahead in smoke, leaving the world beyond invisible —
「THUD! CRUNCH! THUD!」
— and then came the heavy, sickening sound of mass striking mass.
"Good lord, the smoke is truly too much."
"Tell me about it. You can't even tell where we've hit."
Smokeless powder? I've got no answers for that either. We'll all just have to suffer for now. Let's pray the chemists hurry up and invent it.
"Looks like we got some men that time..."
"The range makes it hard to land anything, though."
Honestly, the siege engines aren't even that large, and we've no proper sighting equipment to speak of. Hoping to hit anything is already stretching conscience a bit thin, isn't it?
But the projectiles are whole logs. If one of those skips and swings sideways on impact, it really will turn men into paste.
"Keep firing. It's not like they're even inside rifle range."
Strictly speaking, they're within range — they're just hard to hit. Look over there, they've already started spacing themselves out.
So they have fought a war or two before, have they?
「BOOM! KABOOM! BOOM! KABOOM!」
Fire. Swab the fouling. Load the powder. Ram it home. Seat the projectile. Two men to a crew, and they'd drilled enough that their rhythm locked together without a wasted motion.
Beyond the smoke, the thudding came again. Thud. Crunch. Thud. The sound of something breaking, of men dying.
Let's hope they have the sense to withdraw.
"Muskets, ready!"
"Keep the cannons firing! Siege engines take priority!"
There were trebuchets out there, and those had to be pounded apart first. Their range was considerable — long enough, in fact, to start doing damage on our side of the wall.
Thankfully, the same size that gave them their reach made them nice, easy targets.
We had cannon fire too, but plugging away with muskets at the joints and lashings of the frames would crack them apart as well.
「Wooooom — CRUNCH!」
A boulder came sailing over and slammed into our wall like that. Honestly, those trebuchets are insane. They seemed incapable of hitting what they aimed at, though — the stones went flying absolutely everywhere.
「Wooooom — KRAKA-BOOM」
And the ones that cleared the wall and dropped into the city itself? Nothing to be done about those at all.
"AAAGH!"
"Rocks incoming!"
"Take cover!"
Now and then a stone from the catapults would sail over, and one by one, buildings inside the city began to crumble. When rocks fly like that, is it Muslims who die? Or Christians?
Idiots. Invoking the name of God while doing this. If they win, they'll call it a sublime martyrdom — or swear it was us who started it.
But you will not win. You cannot.
「KROOM-KRAKA-BOOM」
A cannonade that brooked no comparison to anything on the other side. Behind Mudo — on the far side, the direction opposite the crusaders' line of advance — a wall of Daehan's rose even taller than Mudo itself, and smoke hung over it in thick, grinding banks, like a fortress of hell itself.
This side might truly be hell.
Dozens of wooden arrows arced out and plunged into the crusader formation far below. Only then did the men see it for the first time — horses and riders hurled into the air, men bursting apart.
It was a battlefield utterly unlike the ten-odd shots that had flown from their own side, and the crusaders' banners were swept away all at once, as though wiped from existence by an eraser.