IX. Standing Against Injustice (5)
IX. Standing Against Injustice (5)
While staying in Bellam for a short while, Keldric had several things to do.
The first thing he did was visit the Bogenberg Trading Company.
Ludovico, who had once recommended the Bogenberg Tournament to him, was now a full-fledged branch manager and welcomed Keldric personally.
"Sir Keldric of the honorable House Bellaf. It is an honor to see you again."
"Ludovico."
Keldric and Ludovico were not close enough to reminisce warmly, but exchanges like this were how one maintained connections.
From Ludovico's perspective, the recommendation letter had been both a clear favor and an investment. Keldric did not need to repay it in money immediately.
Instead, he had accepted Ludovico as one of his connections.
That benefited them both. If Keldric gained a fief later, he could easily call on contacts in the merchant community, while Ludovico lost nothing by befriending a capable knight.
"I have heard a great deal about you, sir."
"Have you?"
"Yes. I heard you won the Bogenberg Tournament splendidly. As I expected, my judgment was not mistaken."
"Don't pile it on. I was simply lucky."
"Then God must have blessed you. Luck enough to win a tournament of that scale surely lies in the realm of divine blessing."
As Keldric and Ludovico chatted, the conversation inevitably turned to the territorial war.
"Do you know Sir Gerhard of House Olenmayer?"
"Sir Gerhard? I've heard the name in passing."
Though Ludovico had settled in Bellam and intended to spend the rest of his life there, at heart he remained a traveling merchant who had once wandered from place to place.
He knew the rumors surrounding the territorial war well, thanks to the merchants attached to his branch bringing back news from their travels.
Since the Bogenberg Trading Company handled part of Baron Yaven's army logistics, the peddlers naturally saw and heard things as they came and went.
"House Olenmayer is newly founded. But they seem to have prepared thoroughly."
"Since when?"
"At least three or four years, I imagine."
"Is House Olenmayer of barbarian origin?"
"Barbarians... no, not exactly... But it is an undeniable fact that they are descended from them."
Keldric pieced together what Ludovico had told him.
The Emperor had granted House Olenmayer its title and name for political reasons only a few months ago.
They were descendants of the barbarians who lived at the northwesternmost edge of the Empire, on a strip of land jutting out like a peninsula.
Even after being civilized by the Empire and converted to the faith, they could not erase a gap several centuries wide overnight.
Some sort of deal must have been struck between them.
Backed by the Emperor, Baron Gofrit recognized House Olenmayer's hereditary knighthood, fief, and taxation rights. In return, the house would help him in the territorial war and use the opportunity to consolidate its fragile legitimacy.
Legitimacy could not be conjured up overnight. It required generations of inheritance and an enduring house—in other words, time to secure ownership of the land.
And to survive until then, the key was to solidify one's standing in noble society.
"I've enjoyed our conversation. If it isn't an inconvenience, I'll visit again."
"Oh dear, how could it ever be an inconvenience? Please come whenever it suits you."
The meeting with Ludovico was quite satisfactory.
Keldric knew how important it was to gather information he lacked.
When he first left Carlton Village, his ignorance had landed him in trouble more than once.
Knowledge was power. When faced with a territorial war like the present, Keldric valued information about the enemy above all else.
Yet even if knowing the enemy and oneself kept one safe through a hundred battles, any crack within one's own ranks had to be sealed first, enemy be damned.
For some reason, that thought occurred to Keldric on the way back to the inner keep.
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"Oh, Sir Keldric."
"...Sir Lothar."
Keldric ran into Sir Lothar by chance and barely concealed a wry expression.
First impressions shaped everything one thought about a person.
Looking back, Lothar's first impression had been truly awful.
He had ordered around a complete stranger as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Keldric had hated it.
Nobles and knights were often arrogant, but most at least had enough sense to know when and where they could act that way.
"I'm glad I ran into you. Won't you spar with me? I'd like to train my combat wrestling."
"Sir Lothar. Sparring is fine, but we must avoid anything that could cause injury with a battle ahead."
"Then we just don't get hurt."
"..."
In that sense, Sir Lothar seemed to have a few screws loose.
It was not that he was mean or malicious. He said such things without batting an eye and carried on as though the conversation were perfectly normal.
That is, he considered such behavior to be perfectly natural.
A hothouse flower would shiver at a single cold breeze, as the saying went. The description suited Sir Lothar perfectly.
To put it another way, Sir Lothar seemed utterly clueless about the ways of the world.
"Well... If you don't want to spar, then let's discuss something else."
"Very well."
"You won the Bogenberg Tournament, didn't you, Sir Keldric?"
"I was fortunate."
"Luck, huh? I suppose that must have played some part."
"..."
Keldric furrowed his brow. Sir Lothar, walking beside him, stared only straight ahead.
Watching him, Keldric found himself thinking, 'What the hell is wrong with this idiot?'
Sir Lothar, the eldest son of Baron Yaven.
At a glance, one might mistake Baron Yaven for Count Bogenberg's vassal.
They were simply very close. Baron Yaven remained an independent lord with considerable authority.
Influential nobles were not limited to high-born figures like counts or dukes.
A baron who had grown powerful as an independent lord, as Baron Yaven had, commanded considerable respect in noble society.
Keldric felt he could grasp how Sir Lothar had grown up utterly coddled.
And he also had a rough guess as to where Sir Lothar's nasty habit of blurting things out without thinking had originated.
Living as a completely unrestrained tyrant was the sort of thing found in novels. If reality had anything close, Sir Lothar was probably it.
"Sir Keldric. What do you think our potential problems are?"
Keldric held his tongue for a moment. From now on, it seemed he would have to be cautious and choose his words carefully.
"If you're asking about potential problems...?"
"Hmm. I don't mean to blame my father, but that last defeat was quite a bitter affair, you see."
"Oh..."
A sound of admiration escaped Keldric before he realized it.
Keldric had assumed Lothar was nothing but a thoughtless, immature brat, yet the man had clearly been brooding over his father's defeat.
Perhaps he had judged too quickly. Excessive prejudice could hide even a person's good qualities.
"In fact, I inspected the soldiers only yesterday."
"Is that so?"
"Everything was a mess. They were wallowing in some strange defeatism... They didn't look at all like soldiers from a victorious army."
That was natural, since they had been routed in the last battle.
But Sir Lothar did not seem to see it that way.
"Sir Keldric, I think the soldiers you've brought are excellent."
"They are Count Bogenberg's soldiers, trained as elites."
"Indeed, they did seem elite. I hear they fought once before coming here."
Keldric briefly recalled the battle at Salzfluss.
The way they had dispatched the Rheesian mercenaries without hesitation was proof of their training.
They were even joking that 'so long as it isn't my wife giving me hell, there's nothing to fear.' A single victory could raise soldiers' morale dramatically.
"My father is bedridden, so I should thank you in his place. Thank you for serving the domain."
"It was only my duty."
Keldric began to see Sir Lothar in a new light.
Lothar still knew little of the world and blurted things out without thinking, but he appeared to possess at least some sense.
"More importantly, Sir Keldric, if the soldiers you've brought are that capable... may I expect good things from them in the next battle?"
"I cannot give you a definite answer, but the soldiers will do their utmost."
"I have high hopes for your own performance as well. You are the winner of the Bogenberg Tournament, after all."
That damn Bogenberg Tournament winner.
Keldric had known that fame would have drawbacks, but this meeting with Lothar was the first time he truly felt them.
"So, Sir Keldric. I would like to entrust you with the vanguard in the next battle..."
"Sir Lothar."
Perhaps he could still straighten Lothar out.
Keldric saw a little potential in him. Two heads were better than one, as the saying went.
He might be a clueless young lord now, but with careful guidance he could become a different man.
"I believe such decisions should not be made rashly."
"Hmm?"
"I cannot commit before we know where and when the next battle will be fought."
"..."
"The timing of my charge and those of the other knights should be decided after we see how the battle develops."
Sir Lothar wore an expression of utter incomprehension. Keldric swallowed a sigh.
"What answer could they have to a charge by knights?"
"Pardon?"
"The forty soldiers you've brought are elites. If we put them in front and have you lead the charge, the enemy will surely collapse."
"Sir Lothar. Lord Gofrit also has knights."
"They are no match for us."
The words 'So that's why you came back after getting smashed?' rose to Keldric's throat before he forced them down.
This was bad. Keldric reconsidered. Lothar's character was not the problem.
"We send the heavily armored mercenaries forward. With the archers supporting them, the knights charge..."
"..."
The real problem was a complete lack of experience—as if he'd never once been in a fight!
Experience mattered. Having never faced anything one could truly call a battle, Lothar lacked even the basics of strategy and tactics.
If that were the only deficiency, it would be one thing, but on top of that, he was as stubborn as an ox. Keldric felt a headache coming on.
"Sir Lothar, this is not something you should decide alone."
"But I am my father's deputy."
"Lord Yaven would not have made decisions like this alone either. Let us discuss it calmly."
"...If you say so."
Lothar looked as though he had bitten into shit despite grudgingly conceding, but at least he had backed down half a step.
Keldric felt uneasy about the territorial war to come.
He feared the war might become even more troublesome than expected.
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People had been streaming into Bellam since dawn.
They were not all merchants. After Baron Yaven's rout, vassal knights from across the domain had mustered again and arrived with their soldiers.
A knight who brought four or five soldiers was considered to have brought a great many, but the mercenaries made up the numbers.
As a result, Keldric had to answer Sir Lothar's summons at the crack of dawn.
"Haaaaah..."
Inside the chilly inner keep, Alisa followed Keldric with stiff steps.
The northern cold was slowly intensifying again. It had eased when winter gave way to spring, but the brief summer blizzard was drawing near.
A blizzard would likely descend once the month changed.
After walking through the inner keep, chilly as a freezer, Keldric and Alisa arrived at a room where several knights had gathered.
Warmth gently melted the chill clinging to their skin. A fire blazed vigorously in the large hearth set in one corner of the room.
"Sir Keldric."
"Sir Henri."
A long table stood at the center of the room. Keldric sat beside Henri, and Alisa naturally took the seat next to him.
"What a shitty morning. I can never get used to this damned cold."
"This much is manageable."
"Damn it, are northerners even the same species as me?"
Setting aside Sir Henri's nonsense, Keldric checked the faces of the knights gathered before the table.
Three knights sat there, each accompanied by an attendant. A fourth arrived after a short wait, bringing the total to four.
Including Keldric and Sir Henri, that made six. With so many knights gathered, it was not difficult for Keldric to guess what was coming.
"It's about to get busy."
"...Yeah."
A real battle was close at hand. Keldric's fist tightened.