Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: The Royal Envoy
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"Baron Bilbo's conscripts caused another rape incident at an inn in the capital last night!"
"How many times is this now!? Cut that bastard's dick off!"
"They got caught this time!"
"Uh... well, um...."
"Sir Rex of Dorian got drunk and started a brawl, only to get beaten senseless by the capital's residents! He lost four teeth, cracked two ribs, and has a fracture in his left shin!"
"Wow! There are capital residents with such amazing prowess? Conscript them immediately! Damn it!"
"A deserter popped up from the unit Sir Crestor brought!"
"Didn't you say only twenty soldiers were left there?"
"Yes! Now there are fifteen!"
"Gyaaaaaah!"
Ten days.
In that span—long if you think about it, short if you don't—Count Pamell's castle had turned into a hellscape reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah.
The forces, which had numbered over seven hundred even including the Pamell Count family's regular troops, dwindled below five hundred due to dozens of deserters every night.
Likewise, the various incidents and accidents that broke out nightly left dozens seriously injured or causing property and personal damage to the capital's residents.
And the damage inflicted on those residents had to be fully compensated by the Pamell Count family.
Of course, as the lord, he could just stiff them and squash it.
In fact, that's what Count Pamell had done at the start.
But three days ago, even in his own bedroom in the capital, Count Pamell could no longer wield his unchecked power at will.
* * *
"His Majesty the King is concerned."
"......"
No matter that he was a count commanding multiple vassal lords, Count Pamell was still a vassal of the Obla royal family. He was one of the king's subordinates.
Of course, even the boss—the royal family—couldn't micromanage every little thing in a large territory.
As long as a set amount of taxes was paid annually, great lords were generally granted independent authority.
But when the king personally sent an envoy to express his concern, the situation changed.
Especially when that envoy arrived while he had assembled a massive army to wage war against the dukedom founded by the brother-in-law of the 'Hero King,' one of the six heroes and a royal relative.
Thus, Count Pamell had no choice but to play the role of a benevolent and just lord who didn't harm his domain's people.
'Why now! Why the hell send an envoy at a time like this!'
Deep down, he wanted to smack the arrogant royal envoy unconscious and drown him, but Count Pamell forced a smile, hiding his true feelings and doing his utmost.
"It's heartening that His Majesty has taken an interest in this distant land."
"You know full well there's no cause for joy, my lord Count. His Majesty the King stated clearly: he is concerned."
Count Pamell ground his teeth inwardly as he glared at the envoy—an impeccably slicked-back man with a steely, bloodless demeanor that seemed impervious even to a blade.
"Moreover, your unprovoked muster of troops has the neighboring territories on edge. I saw and heard it myself on the way here."
"On edge? Which bastard... no, which territory is making such a fuss?"
"The August Territory."
"But that's...!"
The place where that Sailun or whatever—a royal bastard—had played at being a self-righteous apostle of justice?
Word was that guy and his men had turned half of August Territory into a royal demesne. Of course they'd side with the king!
Unable to say that, Count Pamell continued to exercise patience.
"The August Territory has had no quarrels with us for centuries. Why would I unsettle them now?"
"Yet August's acting lord told me personally to convey their anxiety."
"She handles all the territory's affairs day in and day out in Sir Sailun's stead, and it's exhausting enough with her frail woman's body—now a neighboring great territory shows massive military movements, leaving her too fearful to sleep."
"Ha...."
Count Pamell was at a loss for words.
While the Sion Dukedom had tried hard to gather internal intel and failed, August Territory's news came unbidden.
He'd even learned through rumors that the temporary lord regent was a woman—and a pretty one at that, tied to the Information Guild.
He even knew her nickname now.
Ferret.
How vicious and underhanded must she be for a woman—nay, a lord regent—to earn such a moniker?
And yet, that woman was frail? Sleepless from fear and anxiety?
'This fucking...'
With no change in her expression, Count Pamell couldn't tell if she truly thought that way or was just mocking him, so he held his tongue against the envoy.
He just wished this shitty situation would end quickly.
A royal envoy should take bribes and feasts and piss off, but this lunatic paid for his own meals every time. He hoped the guy would vanish ASAP.
"Fine, then go back to His Majesty and relay this: nothing will happen to warrant His Majesty's concern. The Sion Dukedom issued the first declaration of war."
"I know that. But you assembled your army before the declaration. Why?"
"Sir Teber, don't cross the line. Do I need the royal castle's permission to muster my own troops in my own territory?"
Unable to hold back any longer, Count Pamell finally growled.
But Viscount Juang Teber—the king's second secretary who had served generations of Obla kings—remained ramrod straight in his seat, merely sipping the tea he'd brewed from his own leaves.
As Count Pamell's anger flared further at the attitude, Teber set down his teacup and spoke just as the count was about to snap again.
"Of course not. But as His Majesty's vassal, mustering a massive force tantamount to a full mobilization without cause is exceedingly rare—you know that as well as I. And last night's report...."
"......!?"
Teber silenced Count Pamell, then donned a worn monocle with its gold plating flaked off and pulled a document from his breast pocket to read.
"You've been gathering mercenaries from Beskara and Kobio. There are also reports of wandering elves spotted near the county borders. The former has solid witnesses; the latter is less reliable, but I intend to look into it properly."
"No, that's...."
Caught off guard and brazenly about to deny it, Count Pamell suddenly froze, eyes bulging.
At the bottom of the document Teber placed on the table was an emblem of a horse and a pigeon.
'Information Guild! Then...?'
It was that woman. The Ferret, August Territory's lord regent, had fed this annoyingly upright envoy their intel.
'That fucking bitch!'
"But."
Teber's low voice briefly halted the explosion brewing in Count Pamell's gut.
"His Majesty the King is magnanimous. Thus, he stated he will intervene to mediate once the dispute between Pamell County and the Sion Dukedom is resolved."
"...So you're saying, whatever happens here, His Majesty won't interfere?"
Hearing that the king would only step in after everything was done—like adding a spoon to a finished dish—Count Pamell's heart suddenly pounded.
The king would extract his cut in mediation, but that was no big deal.
That's how kings were.
Better at fleecing than petty lords, that's what made a great lord; better and more artfully than great lords, that's what made a king.
The key was, the more they took, the more solidly they wrapped things up.
"I see it differently, but yes—His Majesty did indicate as much."
"I offer my respect and gratitude for His Majesty's wise decision. Ah, just to confirm—did His Majesty formally state this?"
"On my honor."
"Good."
Saved at the last moment, Count Pamell twitched the corners of his mouth.
After enduring endless stress, topped by this royal envoy whose every word induced ulcers, the count's sanity had been on the brink.
Yet now, that massive stress seemed to vanish in an instant.
Like downing spicy ramen or jjambbong after a late-night binge to settle a roiling stomach.
But that wasn't settling it—it was just numbing the gut momentarily with the intense heat.
Medical consensus held that spicy red broth during a hangover was poison to the stomach.
Yet like Korea's countless alcoholics who chugged jjambbong the morning after binges yesterday, today, and tomorrow, oblivious to the fact....
Count Pamell too had drunk the king's special 'We'll stay out of it till it's over, so handle it yourselves' red-hot jjambbong, numbing his brain.
* * *
"Why! Why the hell haven't those Sion Dukedom bastards shown up yet!?"
Screams still echoed through Count Pamell's castle.
"Shall we go out to greet them in advance?"
"Like hell!"
"Yes, sir! The count orders a march tomorrow!"
"Yes!"
Uoooooh!!!
Forgetting this was a crisis that could doom Pamell County, the castle's retainers and officials raised cheers of joy.
Otherwise, the family would've gone bankrupt or the residents would've revolted before even clashing with House Sion.
"March! Hurry and prepare!"
"What about rations? Water?"
"Just grab water! We'll kill the Sion lot and loot theirs anyway!"
"Round up all the conscripts in one place! No—tie them all up for tonight!"
"What about the knights? Can't control them!"
"Get 'em drunk and put 'em to bed early! Hangover'll sort itself on the march!"
The retainers, who'd endured collective stress worse than their lord's, issued orders unimaginable just days ago.
And the mid- and low-level officials and staff, who'd taken the brunt of that stress—the downstream abuse—handled tasks with the desperation of college students facing a group project deadline, where the professor, team lead, and members were all dead weight.
"Why, why are you doing this?"
"Heh heh heh. Time for a taste of your own back-beating."
"Eek? Eeeek!"
"Tie 'em up and toss 'em in the tents!"
"You lot! Do you know who I am!"
"The backwater knight we'll never see again after tomorrow, right? Come on, booze incoming—glug! Glug glug! Glug glug!"
"Kerk... kerhk!"
Sick of thinking altogether, they half-forcibly bound the conscripts and dumped them, then force-fed alcohol to the knights who'd caused the most trouble lately.
Thus, that night, the only forces in proper 'readiness' in Pamell County's capital were the count's direct knights and some three hundred soldiers.
They too retired early for the next day's march.
The capital's residents, finally freed from torment after so long, also sank into deep, peaceful slumber.
In the end....
"...What the hell is this?"
Having infiltrated Count Pamell's castle while evading a thousand enemy troops and ten times that in capital residents, the old monster—who'd maintained a healthy tension—couldn't help but be thrown off.
(To be continued in the next chapter)