IX. Standing Against Injustice (4)
IX. Standing Against Injustice (4)
Passing through the gate bustling with wartime traffic turned out to be simpler than Keldric had expected.
Showing the crests of House Bellaf and House Porlanche, along with the pass token Count Bogenberg had given them, settled everything without delay.
Of course, that did not mean the gate's defenses were lax. The guards maintained tighter security than ever.
At the same time, the soldiers defending Bellam looked desperate for reinforcements. They broke into grins at the sight of two knights sitting ramrod-straight on their warhorses.
Two knights and forty elite soldiers made a reassuring force at a glance.
"Traffic's more frequent than I thought."
Keldric nodded slowly.
As Henri had said, Bellam was still bustling with people coming and going and activity on every side.
Not just anyone could enter the city, obviously. The gate soldiers clearly controlled access.
Only traveling merchants attached to certain companies were allowed through the gate, and even their cargo was strictly limited to essentials such as food and weapons.
In other words, every merchant crowding the gate belonged to one of a few specific companies.
Keldric watched the peddlers moving busily. They walked briskly, utterly indifferent to the grim atmosphere hanging over Bellam.
Most traveling merchants avoided places like this because of the chaos and danger of plunder that accompanied territorial wars, but ambitious merchants and companies under direct contract with a lord were different.
To them, a territorial war was a chance at a payoff large enough to justify the risk.
Bellam was a city of countless opportunities, the place known as the Cradle of the North. It could produce possibilities without end.
Infinite possibilities meant infinite money.
The merchants who had made it through the gate smelled of iron—the scent of coins, or perhaps of the weapons and armor they carried.
"Sir Keldric."
"Did you call?"
"Looks like all the soldiers are through. Let's head to the castle."
Keldric nodded. Henri casually looked around before leaning close and whispering.
"By the way, Sir Keldric. This may be a foolish question, but..."
"What?"
"Who was Bellam's castellan again? I recall him being a knight of House Kassel."
"Sir Herman. Sir Herman of House Kassel."
Sir Herman. A young knight with a memorably angular jaw, deeply enamored with chivalric literature. Keldric privately looked forward to the reunion.
People needed other people to live. But Keldric was not some bachelor next door who had to mingle with anyone he met simply to feel human company.
In that sense, a connection like Herman was valuable. Knights often befriended other knights, but...
'It'd be nice to build a few more connections.'
Keldric possessed overwhelming strength, a sharp mind, and a reputation spreading farther by the day. One thing he sorely lacked was connections.
Connections did not just mean bribing people and rubbing one's hands together in supplication.
Keldric wanted something more genuine and wholesome.
Close friends willing to help one another within reason—someone to talk to and call a companion.
Henri had connections among the Frankish Knights, and House Porlanche had ties to quite a few other noble houses.
But Keldric had not a damn thing like that.
In the months since leaving his family, Keldric could count the people he had gotten to know on one hand. Even fewer had become friends or earned his trust.
They amounted to Sir Herman, Sir Alan, Sir Werner, and Baron Yaven.
Among them, the one Keldric could confidently call a reasonably close friend was Sir Herman.
After all, had Keldric not served as champion in a trial by combat and proven Lady Kassel's chastity?
"Sir Keldric of the honorable House Bellaf. It is an honor to see you once again."
Perhaps thanks to that, many in the city recognized Keldric. A few here and there even murmured about news of the Bogenberg Tournament.
Keldric gave the flattering soldier a perfunctory nod.
"No need to lay it on. Anyway, is Sir Herman inside the castle?"
"He has come out to greet you, Sir Keldric. He is in the front courtyard now."
"...He's already out here?"
Word traveled fast. Keldric headed onward with a strange expression.
As he entered the front courtyard, a familiar knight greeted him exuberantly.
"Sir Keldric!"
"Sir Herman. Good to see you again."
"Don't steal my line! Anyway, I knew you'd come back to Bellam!"
Caught in Herman's embrace as the man bounced with joy, Keldric went along with it, looking faintly resigned.
However he expressed it, Keldric was glad to see a familiar face again.
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Their delighted reunion and embrace did not last long.
After greeting him with delight, Herman immediately ushered Keldric and Henri into the inner keep.
"Lord Yaven was struck by an arrow?!"
Herman's haste had good reason.
Henri sprang to his feet in shock, spectacularly overturning the wine goblet set out for him.
Herman gestured for a servant to clean it up, then answered with a troubled expression.
"Yes. His Lordship probably won't be leaving his castle for some time."
"How did that happen? I heard he'd already been defeated once."
"Ugh... well..."
The explanation Sir Herman gave went as follows.
Baron Yaven followed Count Bogenberg, whom he served in all but name as his liege, and sent a declaration to Baron Gofrit. Baron Gofrit accepted it with all due decorum.
Then, as if they had been waiting for it, Baron Gofrit's army swarmed into the Barony of Yaven the moment the declaration was accepted.
"But hadn't Lord Yaven stationed troops in advance as well?"
"You're right."
A declaration opening a territorial war in this era generally contained three points.
First: upon further consideration, the lands or rights you hold rightfully belong to us, for such-and-such just cause.
Second, therefore hand them over peacefully or submit. If you insist on resisting, you'll regret it.
Finally, third: if you truly want to fight and get yourselves fucked, bring your army on such-and-such day and hour, and let's have at it. Or send forth Sir So-and-So to fight an honorable duel, one against one.
Postscript: if the aforementioned battlefield or timing displeases you, send a reply.
Roughly that sort of thing. In other words, the battlefield where Baron Yaven's and Baron Gofrit's armies would clash had already been decided.
According to Sir Herman, the side that had encamped and finished preparations first was Baron Yaven's army.
Baron Yaven held the clear advantage. Yet he was the one defeated.
Keldric couldn't understand it. Even if he was no great strategist, there were parts here that anyone would find strange.
To encamp before the enemy meant seizing the favorable ground on the battlefield and allowing faster reconnaissance of the terrain.
Taking the field first was therefore a major advantage. Yet he had still lost?
"His Lordship did encamp first, but Lord Gofrit's army knew that and did not approach recklessly."
"What were they planning?"
"A night raid. Lord Yaven anticipated that too and prepared countermeasures... but this was the result."
With Baron Yaven's army already encamped and waiting, attacking it head-on would only have put Baron Gofrit at a disadvantage.
That left three options.
They could send one knight apiece to duel, break Baron Yaven's formation with some brilliant stratagem, or... launch a night raid.
Baron Gofrit chose the night raid.
"I see... Damn it, a night raid. Lord Yaven was hit hard."
Sir Henri nodded calmly, though clearly frustrated.
A night raid wasn't classified as a petty or dishonorable act.
Attacking in the darkness, when defenses were comparatively lax, was a time-honored tactic in human warfare.
It would have been different if they had agreed to a duel between knights in advance, but otherwise a night raid did not seriously violate chivalric custom.
Sir Herman's words suggested that Baron Yaven had been prepared for a night raid to some extent.
"They seem to have a rather formidable knight on their side."
The problem was a certain knight belonging to Baron Gofrit's army.
"I heard he came from farther north than here. They say he swings an enormous axe and fights fearlessly."
"Farther north... Then he must be from the northwest. I've heard converted barbarians live at the very edge of the region."
"Likely one of their descendants."
Keldric tried to imagine the knight Sir Herman described.
A huge, sturdy build, a distinctive helmet adorned with small horns, and... an enormous two-handed axe.
A warrior through and through. It was the image commonly conjured when one spoke of a northern warrior or a barbarian champion.
But those were barbarians, not knights. This giant was equipped like a knight and was indisputably a knight of the Empire.
"So, Sir Keldric."
Herman put on a deliberately serious expression, and Keldric's face hardened in response.
"Your support is desperately needed. The additional troops alone would help, but... shamefully, it seems we have no one on our side capable of facing that knight."
"Have you already fought him?"
"No. But judging by the rumors, he's no ordinary man."
Keldric thought for a moment.
Keldric had intended to fight regardless. But if the man was truly that strong, the battle would be dangerous.
"I'd like to learn more about him."
"Aside from his name, I know little."
"His name?"
"Sir Gerhard of House Olenmayer."
Keldric glanced at Henri and Alisa to either side of him. Both shook their heads; neither had heard the name before.
"Never heard of him."
"I thought not. They say it's a newly titled house."
House Olenmayer had only recently received its hereditary knighthood from the Emperor.
Keldric did not even know every long-established house in the region, so it was hardly surprising that this one was unfamiliar.
"In any case, Sir Keldric. I sincerely hope your valor will shine in the next battle."
"I'll do my best. Which unit am I assigned to?"
"Ah, don't worry about that. You'll be under Sir Lothar."
"Sir Lothar?"
The name was new to him. When Keldric asked, Herman nodded as though it were nothing.
"Yes. He is His Lordship's eldest son."
"Ah."
With Baron Yaven confined to bed, command of the army would naturally pass to the next highest-ranking man.
Keldric had never met him, but if he was even as sensible as Baron Yaven, Keldric could ask for nothing more.
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But nothing in the world ever went as planned, and Keldric was no exception.
"Sir Keldric of House Bellaf?"
Keldric was inspecting the soldiers in the front courtyard when a sudden voice called his name. He turned.
A man with features similar to Baron Yaven stood there.
If Baron Yaven lost a bit more weight and had a far more angular jaw, he might look exactly like this.
The man looked Keldric up and down, then nodded as if the rumors had been confirmed.
"It seems the rumors weren't all nonsense. At first glance, I mistook you for a bear."
"What..."
"I heard you won the Bogenberg Tournament. Then you should have no objection to taking the honorable vanguard in the next charge."
It was an absurd thing to say. How could he decide that without knowing when or where the next battle would be fought, or who they would face?
Before Keldric could object, the man said his piece and swept away.
'What an ill-mannered bastard—'
Keldric had not even heard his name. Scowling, he asked a Bellam soldier standing nearby.
"Who was that?"
"Sir Lothar, eldest son of Baron Yaven."
"..."
Sir Lothar Mikesh, eldest son of Devanu Mikesh, Baron Yaven.
Their first meeting had gone poorly. Keldric had a bad feeling about him.