VI. The Enemy Draws Nearer (8)
VI. The Enemy Draws Nearer (8)
The captured bandit leader regained consciousness before long.
His eyes still drifted out of focus and he looked half senseless, but taking the apparent leader alive was an encouraging result.
Keldric had the mercenaries stop the bleeding from his shoulder and keep him alive, then confronted him once he was conscious.
"What is your name?"
"..."
"Every time you refuse to answer, I will pull out one of your fingers."
Keldric removed a gauntlet and displayed his massive hand. The bandit leader flinched in terror.
The surrounding Iron Claw mercenaries reacted much the same, and several stared at Keldric with fear.
"Fucking hell... Pull his fingers out? Not break them?"
"Thought I’d misheard."
"Shh. Shut up. The knight is speaking."
Keldric heard the whispers but ignored them. He knew perfectly well that the threat was frightening.
"Now, answer. What is your name?"
"Gu-Gunteram, sir."
"Good, Gunteram. What kind of men were those you led here?"
"..."
"This is your final warning. Do not waste time inventing excuses."
Still seated, Keldric drew out a heavy mass of iron and rested it across his knees.
The worn mace was frightening at a glance. Gunteram trembled violently at the sight of the heavy killing weapon.
He did not want to imagine how many skulls the giant knight had shattered with it.
"W-we are mercenaries. We belonged to a company called the Warriors of the Peak."
"Warriors of the Peak?"
Keldric glanced at Radomar. The captain closed his eyes to think, then shook his head. He had never heard the name.
"Where did they operate?"
"Around Bagram. The area became unstable some time ago, and... there was plenty of work for us."
Bagram lay in the northeast of Count Rasau’s territory.
Before the Emperor broke apart other nobles’ lands and combined them into Rasau’s domain, the territory had belonged to several different lords.
Disputes between Count Rasau and neighboring nobles still plagued the region. Keldric smelled corruption.
"How did you come all the way to this place?"
"Th-that is..."
Gunteram hesitated, opening and closing his mouth. Keldric had no patience for it.
"I see."
Keldric rose and slowly raised the mace. If he brought it down, Gunteram’s skull would unquestionably split.
Gunteram screamed and threw himself flat before Keldric.
"Forgive me! C-Count Rasau! Count Rasau sent us here!"
"Lord Rasau did?"
"Yes! That's right!"
Count Rasau had sent the Warriors of the Peak this far. Keldric could not immediately understand why.
"Why did he send you here? Tell me everything you know!"
"I-I’ll tell you! Please spare me!"
Once he began, Gunteram spilled everything as though a dam had broken.
Count Rasau had surely ordered some secrecy, but that meant nothing before a man who might split Gunteram’s skull like a melon at any moment.
Bluntly put, if Keldric said fuck it and killed him, Count Rasau would never learn what had happened.
"So you were paid to become bandits?"
"Yes! That's right!"
Gunteram’s account was as follows.
One day, while the Warriors of the Peak worked around Bagram after its incorporation into Rasau’s territory, Count Rasau secretly summoned several mercenary companies.
They expected lucrative work, but Rasau instead paid them to commit banditry.
A noble commissioning mercenaries to “go rob people” was profoundly dishonorable.
Sending them into another lord’s territory to rob travelers and peddlers crossed every conceivable line.
But Rasau had begun life as a shepherd boy and acted as though he had no dignity to lose. With the Emperor behind him, he ignored noble reputation and ran wild.
His reason for targeting the highroad between Bogenberg and Spitzenberg was obvious.
'He is trying to drive them apart.'
Baron Spitzenberg was wavering between Count Rasau and Count Bogenberg, and Rasau plainly meant to drive a wedge between them.
It was a shallow trick.
Count Bogenberg only needed to capture and question one man, as Keldric had, for the truth to emerge.
That meant Rasau had never particularly intended to hide it.
He simply did not care.
If Baron Spitzenberg’s trust in Count Bogenberg broke even briefly, Rasau could use the opening to win him over.
Once the objective was achieved, it would not matter if Count Bogenberg later uncovered the truth.
"Sir Keldric, this could become a grave matter for Count Bogenberg."
Alisa approached carefully and whispered beside him. Keldric nodded.
If Rasau had stooped to this petty scheme, he was probably doing the same elsewhere.
More bandits might already be waiting along the road to Spitzenberg.
"He does not hesitate to play dirty."
It was despicable. One could call him ambitious if determined to be charitable, but no one was likely to be that charitable.
Gunteram had been treated as a disposable pawn.
That did not excuse his eager acceptance of the bandit work.
"On behalf of Johann von Bogenberg, rightful lord of Bogenberg, I, Keldric of House Bellaf, who contracted with him before God, shall pass judgment on you."
"S-Sir Knight! Please spare me!"
"For preying upon good people through banditry and for the sin of avarice, you shall pay with death."
Alisa covered Arno’s and Helga’s eyes as Keldric raised the mace high.
Despair flooded Gunteram’s face. The iron mass paused overhead, then fell like merciless thunder.
Crunch!
"Ugh, shit..."
"Urp..."
Gunteram’s skull collapsed under the single blow, killing him before he could feel pain.
His ruined body rolled across the ground. Keldric clicked his tongue and flicked the flesh from his mace.
As the saying went, show no mercy to sons of bitches who lived by banditry.
Keldric had no intention of showing such men mercy.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
A forced march in the dead of night was unreasonable, but after bloodying their hands, no one could simply lie back down and sleep.
"You may take the spoils."
"Yes. Sir Keldric."
Keldric allowed the mercenaries to loot the dead.
Radomar bowed, unable to hide his smile.
Spitzenberg was only another day or two away, but they would also travel together on the return journey. Boosting morale cost him nothing.
"Sir Keldric. What shall be done with the bodies?"
"Gather the bodies in one place."
"A wise order. Leaving them scattered might cause trouble."
Keldric also ordered the bodies collected.
Digging graves was impractical, but they could at least burn the corpses and clear them away.
Collecting the bandits’ bodies took several hours.
There were many corpses, and searching a dark field by torchlight created endless difficulties.
Far from complaining, the mercenaries were all smiles.
The bandits’ equipment was far better than that of ordinary ragged thieves. Whenever the mercenaries searched a body, something of value seemed to fall out.
They had to leave behind the heaviest armor and excess weapons, but the silver in the bandits’ purses and their serviceable shoes alone made the work profitable.
Keldric helped as well. He had personally killed more than ten, and their possessions were his share.
He had already earned a fortune at the Bogenberg Tournament, but more money was always welcome.
Still, scraping together every coin could look greedy.
A knight’s luxury displayed honor and wealth, yet desperately chasing money was condemned. Even Keldric struggled to understand the distinction.
Keldric set aside several silver coins.
By the time they had gathered the corpses and spoils, dawn had broken beyond the broad eastern horizon.
In the growing sunlight, the field looked even worse.
Their camp remained mostly intact, but the burned and blood-soaked patches around it were gruesome.
"Sir Keldric. The bodies have been gathered in one place."
"Alisa."
"Yes. Sir Keldric."
Alisa murmured an incantation. Embers rose from the campfire and torches and drifted onto the pile of corpses.
Flames devoured the bodies. Amid the thick stench of burning flesh, Keldric sighed with distaste.
"We should strike camp."
"Understood."
Radomar and the mercenaries quickly broke camp. Keldric looked away from the pile of corpses billowing dark smoke.
"Arno, Helga. Come here."
Arno and Helga approached hesitantly, still frightened.
Keldric had wiped away most of the blood, but the sight of him slaughtering bandits amid the flames was not easily forgotten.
For children who had watched their village be plundered, the memory must have been even worse. Keldric’s mouth tasted bitter.
"Hold out your hands."
"O-our hands?"
"Go on."
Two pairs of small hands cautiously appeared before him.
Keldric placed a handful of silver in each—about ten Grasen silver coins apiece.
"Sir Keldric! This is..."
"Aveline came immediately because you cared for the horse well. You have earned this share."
"Th-thank you!"
"Thank you...!"
Fear still lingered, but Arno’s and Helga’s eyes shone with hope as they bowed repeatedly in thanks.
They had escaped orphanhood only to follow a complete stranger, and must have felt deeply uneasy.
But Keldric was more merciful than they had expected, and his absurd strength made him reassuringly dependable.
His purse became slightly lighter, but Keldric did not resent the expense.
If twenty Grasen silver coins could buy his attendants’ trust and loyalty, it was a bargain.
"Let us depart."
"Aye. We're moving out!"
Leaving the blood-spattered field behind, Keldric mounted Boreas and resumed the journey along the highroad.
Spitzenberg was close. If they moved diligently, they might avoid another night in camp.
Keldric hoped they would meet no more bandits.