Thirty Warhorses
House Thalen, the family that guarded the frontier of the Asiris Kingdom's Outer Forest. For more than five hundred years they had held this land, these people, this name.
The Asiris Kingdom itself was a young nation of barely three centuries, and the pride of having kept their soil longer than the kingdom had even existed was carved deep into their hearts.
Count Thalen, the current head of the house, was a hot-tempered, rough-hewn man — as befit someone raised on the frontier. And yet, peculiarly, his longing for the capital ran just as strong. He went to considerable pains to imitate the dignity of the central nobility. The trouble was that he copied only the surface, with nothing of substance underneath.
He would try his hand at courtly customs he could not begin to understand, laugh a hollow little laugh at nothing in particular, or import whatever the capital nobles were said to eat and drink so that he might play at luxury.
The sole exception was when his temper broke. In those moments, his retainers were granted a view of the true Count Thalen.
Something had been twisting in the Count's gut for a fortnight now. And today, at last, that hidden face was showing.
"This goddamn—! Some viscount's brat thinks he can treat a frontier count like—!"
"Father, please, calm yourself."
"Calm myself?! I already looked the other way when he dragged his knights onto my land and raised hell, and now what — he wants me to hand over warhorses?!"
The letter Count Thalen had flung across the desk still bore Ereb's signature at its foot, written with magnificent self-assurance. It had been composed at length in an elegant hand, every phrase carefully wrought — but that was not how it appeared to the Count.
BANG!!
Count Thalen slammed his fist down on the office desk. His face had gone scarlet, the flesh of his cheeks quivering. It was a letter that, in true capital-noble fashion, existed solely to make a fool of him.
"Heh. Well, well. They say that house's second son is a notorious wastrel... and isn't that exactly right?"
"He's an uneducated thug. The House of Ahental itself is just a clan of upstarts who lucked into a fortune, isn't it? A family with no roots — it shows."
"Their history is laughably short compared to ours. And we're supposed to swallow this kind of humiliation from people like that...? What the hell did they even come crawling out to the frontier for, only to lose all their horses?"
"They can blame the climate all they want, but they probably got hit by monsters while they were off playing at hunting. You don't see monsters as strong as the ones in the outer regions back in the capital... they must have underestimated things and paid for it. I haven't heard that the Ahental Knights' achievements this time were anything impressive."
"True enough. They can have all the money in the world, but martial prowess isn't something you can just buy."
The young man seated to Count Thalen's left was busy being the tongue in his father's mouth, shaping every word to the old man's temper. The man in his thirties seated to the right, however, seemed to be of a different mind.
"But Father, you mustn't forget that we owe the House of Ahental an enormous debt. Frankly, we've been deferring repayment for years. Getting angry over a request for a few dozen warhorses is uncalled for. And the contents of the letter itself are perfectly reasonable, aren't they?"
"Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how precious horses are as a resource for defending the frontier? And they're demanding we just hand them over, just like that. If that letter reads politely to you, it's because you don't give a damn about this family's honor! This cuts directly to the safety of our territory and our pride. How am I supposed to not be angry? Even your little brother understands that much!"
"..."
If Father hadn't wasted money playing at being a capital noble, this debt never would have existed. The one who put the territory's safety and our pride in jeopardy is Father himself.
The timid man answered only in his head. He could not bring himself to say it aloud, and closed his eyes instead.
"Father, I have a good idea."
It was then that the man's younger brother put on a sly look, as if a scheme had just occurred to him.
"And what would that be?"
"Invite the Second Young Master and throw a banquet."
"Have you gone mad too? What's so precious about that brat that I'd bring him here and throw a banquet? We're already scraping by!"
"Father, what do you need to liven up a banquet?"
"...Women?"
"That would be excellent too, but we're frontier men who live on harsh land, are we not?"
"Ah. I see what you're getting at. You want to stage a knight's proxy duel."
It was a common enough diversion at noble gatherings. A knight was a noble's sword, a noble's shield, and a noble's ornament. That was why every noble house, despite the ruinous cost of maintaining them, kept a knight order as a matter of necessity.
"I've heard that the one who led the knights alongside the Second Young Master is Ramang Stradimus."
"That eternal Lavish?"
"Our knight commander should be able to crush him outright. It would be Brillant against Lavish — a gap between heaven and earth, wouldn't you say?"
Count Thalen stroked his beard, a look of consideration crossing his face.
"I know what's giving you pause. It's the head of the House of Ahental, isn't it?"
"...Even if his rank is a step below ours, his influence in the capital is not something we can ignore. If his second son is humiliated like that, will he simply sit still?"
He had insulted them as a house of upstarts and worse, but Count Thalen was not blind to reality. That "upstart" house was a core pillar of the crown prince's faction — and the crown prince was the man who would next take the throne of the Asiris Kingdom.
On top of that, they were already collared by debt. The thought of poking this particular hornet's nest left him uneasy.
"The head of the House of Ahental would have a hard time intervening — we've looked the other way too many times for him to have the pretext. We let them requisition supplies from our territory as they pleased, we're providing warhorses, and now we're even throwing them a banquet, aren't we?"
"True enough. If I go that far and he still steps in, he'll look even more ridiculous. Very well. Proceed as planned, Taliss."
Count Thalen drove the point home as if placing the entire matter in the young man's hands. The two of them left with satisfied smiles.
The only one remaining let out a long sigh.
When day broke, Benuda Village was the same as it had been two days before. Women and men heading out to the fields, children running and shouting, hunters and herb gatherers setting off toward the forest.
It had changed so completely that yesterday's raucous festival felt like a dream. In the midst of it all, the mercenaries were busy preparing to leave.
"Load the rations over there! Hey, why are the spare weapons in this kind of shape? Rain leaked in? You little shit... why do we only have this much oil? If we're short, go find some firewood at least!"
Gaston was busy shouting himself hoarse at the new recruits, running the whole operation from the front. The captain was nowhere to be seen this morning, which meant there were more decisions to make on his own — and that had him even more on edge than usual.
It was only when they were about to depart that Ayla and Messi appeared, looking as if they'd given themselves a hasty wash. Gaston's eyes went round.
"Captain. What's the occasion? Sleeping in? Messi, why are you coughing like that?"
"...I must have had too much last night."
"You're joking, right? The captain's the heaviest drinker in the whole company."
Gaston, who had no tact whatsoever, kept asking questions, and Ayla seriously considered whether she ought to draw her sword first thing in the morning.
The subject, however, moved on soon enough.
"Uncle Leto?"
Leto was standing in the departure column with his things already packed. Messi couldn't help but stare.
"Let's go. He put you in my care, so if you're leaving, then I go with you. If you're going to do something that matters, you'll need a pair of hands you can trust."
"The village is going to need you, though."
"I'm not the only herb gatherer. I've taught a few of the others. They'll be fine."
"Fine? What's fine about it!"
The village chief came chasing after them, huffing with indignation. He seemed to have hurried over the moment he heard Leto was leaving.
"A man who's supposed to represent this village can't just leave his post whenever he feels like it!"
"Village Chief, I'll leave things in your hands while I'm gone."
"Listen to you. How am I supposed to run this village without you? Is that even a reasonable thing to say?"
Leto ranged deeper into the forest than anyone else, and the herbs he brought back were of a quality no other gatherer in the village could match. He had contributed a great deal to the village's finances, and his solid leadership had settled more than a few disputes besides. In any number of ways, he was a man the village needed.
But Leto's mind was made up. When he shook his head, the village chief's eyes grew a little wet.
"I was just starting to think we might actually get along, you and I..."
"I'll be back before long."
"Heartless, that's what you are."
Leto's leaving, however, presented another problem as well.
"But Uncle Leto, if you leave the forced settlement, you'll be a criminal. It doesn't matter for me — I was never on the register here to begin with..."
They were people the kingdom had forcibly settled here, and to move without permission was illegal. The frontier Count Thalen was particularly sensitive about his population numbers, and would never permit anyone to leave their post on a whim.
"That's why I was about to ask a favor."
Leto's gaze turned toward Ereb and Ramang, who were chatting off to the side.
"Second Young Master, I wish to accompany Messi as well. Would you take me on?"
"I don't mind. But I did leave you with a task, didn't I?"
He meant the memorial stone honoring the fallen knights. That, as it turned out, was no problem at all.
"I already took care of it yesterday. A craftsman I trust will raise the stone."
"Did you? Then come along."
The permission came so easily that even the man who had asked for it looked taken aback. Messi added an explanation.
"Second Young Master. This place is under a Forced Settlement Decree. Freedom of residence and movement is restricted."
"Heh. You think I wouldn't know that? I mean I'll handle it."
How dare anyone object, when I have said I will do it? That was the arrogance that hung about Ereb. Messi nodded.
Come to think of it, that confidence was only to be expected.
From Benuda Village to the Forest of Resentment might have been Messi and Leto's domain — but beyond the village, they were in the domain of Ereb, a noble. That confidence was not for nothing.
"Sir Ramang, my letter to House Thalen was delivered properly yesterday, I trust? I took care to write it courteously... though I believe I shall have to send one more."
"Yes, I'll have it ready. They should be bringing the horses from House Thalen shortly — we can send the letter along with them. Ah, here they come now."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than dozens of warhorses were filing through the entrance of Benuda Village.
The young man at the head of the column rode up to where Ereb stood, dismounted with care, and bowed.
"Greetings, Lord Ereb. I am Taliss von Thalen, youngest son of House Thalen."
"Ah, so you're Taliss. I've heard a great deal. They say you enjoy a great deal of the Count's favor."
More precisely, he'd heard that Taliss was an expert at kissing the Count's ass — but he'd phrased it more politely.
Taliss seemed not to have expected to be addressed so casually. His expression stiffened for a moment, then smoothed over just as quickly. Of course, Ereb was not one to miss it.
"Haha, you honor me. The reason I've come is... my father wishes to host a banquet in your name. I wanted to ask you in person to attend, which is why I made the journey myself."
A banquet?
Ereb tilted his head. That keen instinct of his was sounding the alarm once again — the unpleasant sensation he felt whenever underlings started getting cocky.
"Hmm... just yesterday Benuda Village threw a grand festival in my honor, and now another banquet?"
"Haha, how could a little village festival possibly compare to a banquet of House Thalen! I assure you it will be most enjoyable — grant me the honor of escorting you!"
The words poured out of him as fluently as a running stream. Seeing how hard he was selling it, they'd clearly already made elaborate preparations.
Ereb's eyes gleamed.
"Oh-ho... is that so? Then I shall expect not to be disappointed. I hear Count Thalen is well acquainted with the lavish banquet culture of the capital."
"I beg your pardon?"
In truth, he'd only been thinking of a simple banquet — but now, unexpectedly, the expenses were about to swell.
Taliss bowed his head, a string of curses running through his mind.
"O-of course. I'm certain you'll be satisfied."
"Then I'll attend. As it happens, there's a favor I'd like to ask as well."
Ereb said it with a sidelong glance at Leto. Taliss, who had no way of knowing what that meant, ground his teeth.
This delinquent bastard thinks our house is such an easy mark — a pile of cheap trash! Fine... whether our house is trash or his is, the banquet will have the answer.