Chapter 295
Chapter 295
Iron Emperor — Chapter 295
Hailon called over a soldier who was poking his head out from one side. The soldier shuffled over hesitantly, then snapped to attention.
"Here. Put a nice signature mark on this."
"Me, sir?"
"Why else would I have called you?"
Hailon had written the letter himself, but calling over a random soldier to provide the authenticating signature mark meant, in a word...
Fraud.
"Y-you mustn't do this!"
Baron Paul, finally catching on to what Hailon was up to, shouted with a horrified expression.
"Shh, keep your voice down. Did you think defending a fortress means doing nothing but fighting nonstop until reinforcements arrive? This is part of the defense too. Soldier."
"Yessir!"
The soldier, who had just finished making his signature mark and was wiping ink from his hand, came trotting back at Hailon's call.
"You. Would you rather keep fighting the whole time, or take it easy while those Holy Empire bastards are standing out there in the blazing sun, stall for time, and then fight short and hard?"
"My father always told me to live short and make it count, sir."
"My friend, if you're going to live, you ought to live long. Anyway, the latter sounds better, doesn't it?"
When Hailon grinned, baring his teeth, the soldier grinned back and gave an honest answer.
"It does. Heh heh heh."
"Good, get going. Quietly let your friends know. Tell them to play along."
Hailon clapped the soldier on the shoulder and sent him back to his original post. The soldier turned and ran off, then suddenly stopped and added one more thing.
"Lord Hailon."
"What?"
"I respect you, sir."
"Heh heh heh, you silly fellow."
The soldier scampered off chuckling. Hailon watched him go with a satisfied expression. The scroll that was delivered outside captured Baron Paul's cry of utter incomprehension.
The Holy Empire knight who had received Hailon's scroll returned to his own camp.
Hailon watched until the knight who had come as an envoy had completely re-entered the Imperial lines, then quietly issued an order.
"Effective immediately, all soldiers are to rest in place as comfortably as possible. Moving to the nearest shade is permitted. That is all."
* * *
Marquis Public unrolled the scroll and read through it, his expression unreadable.
[To His Illustrious Grace the Marquis Saint Public, the lowly Hailon presents his respects, however inadequately, through this letter.
Though we now face each other as enemies, I have long... (abridged) ...and if I were to surrender, I wish to know whether I might be granted an opportunity to serve the Empire in even the humblest capacity.
Furthermore, I beseech you to extend mercy to my innocent soldiers... (abridged) ...and spare their lives.
This unworthy servant Hailon came to entertain such thoughts long ago, due to Gauri's policies of racial discrimination... (abridged) ...and has now been dragged to this foreign land and forced to stake his life.
May the Marquis Saint Public take pity on this wretched soul before the Lord God... (abridged) ...I shall live as the Marquis's servant.]
"......."
Count Turbes, who had taken the scroll from the Marquis and read it to the end, folded it back up without a word.
"So he's saying Gauri is discriminating against him, and if we just give him a title in the Holy Empire, he'll surrender immediately and pledge loyalty to you, Marquis. And while he's at it, please spare his men's lives. To write all that out at such length..."
"Ho ho ho."
Whatever the content, a scroll bearing a signature mark could not simply be ignored. And from the Holy Empire's perspective, situations like this arose frequently in every war.
"Bring me a fresh scroll."
"Understood."
Public watched the soldier fetch a scroll for correspondence and clicked his tongue inwardly.
'Tsk, tsk. Completely different from those hard-bitten ones last time.'
He was a warrior himself, and he found his heart going out more to the warrior named Geolmurang—who had nearly taken his life but remained unyielding to the end—than to a man like this Hailon.
A rider bearing a white flag came galloping from the Holy Empire camp. Hailon quietly issued an order to his soldiers.
"Put on the most pitiful expressions you can manage. The soldier who does it best gets a bottle of good liquor. Pass this order along quietly."
At those words, the faces of the soldiers peering over the walls of Pharus Castle became a living gallery of human misery, the sort you couldn't behold without tears.
As the Holy Knight handed the scroll over to the Roselin knight, he kept glancing at the soldiers' pitiful expressions and traced the holy sign, offering a prayer from horseback.
Hailon unrolled the scroll delivered from the Holy Empire and read it with close attention.
Its contents expressed respect for Hailon's decision, promised him treatment equivalent to the rank of Baron immediately upon surrender, and pledged that if he continued to serve in the campaign and distinguished himself, he would be richly rewarded when merits were apportioned.
"Huh. Why'd the answer come so fast?"
Hailon had expected a bit of back-and-forth, and he felt almost puzzled by how readily the Holy Empire had agreed.
Beside him, Baron Paul—exhausted from trying to stop Hailon's antics—answered Hailon's question.
"The truth is, when the Holy Empire wages war, such would-be defectors appear with some regularity. They don't accept all of them, but if accepting one would avert heavy losses, or if the man is worth winning over and using, they accept without hesitation. It's a kind of institutional know-how."
"They don't suspect anything?"
Hailon blinked and asked again. Baron Paul let out a deep sigh and replied.
"Who would dare imagine that anyone would try to pull such a fraud against the Empire? Naturally, there is no room for suspicion."
Baron Paul watched Hailon marvel at his answer and begin talking about how he must inform His Majesty the Yeolje of this new weakness of the Empire, and swallowed the words that were about to burst from his mouth.
'Most likely, you are the only person who could pull something like this.'
Hailon had been a slash-and-burn farmer from the start, so it was only natural that such formalities did not feel particularly important to him. The fact that he at least had enough conscience to forge the document using someone else's signature mark—was that perhaps the one small point in his favor?
"I'll need to send a reply."
Baron Paul turned his head away at the sight of Hailon spreading a fresh scroll on the table and licking the brush to wet it.
Better not to look. That way he might preserve what little respect remained for the name Iron Wall Hailon.
"Hey, soldier. Come put a signature mark here!"
"Yessir!"
"......."
In that moment, Baron Paul resolved simply to go with the flow and let life take its course.
It did not take long for Marquis Public's face to crumple as he unrolled the reply.
"What... is the matter?"
Count Turbes, noticing the Marquis's discomfort, asked carefully. At his question, Marquis Public rolled the scroll back up, set it on the table, and spoke.
"Rather than something ambiguous like 'treatment equivalent to a Baron,' he wants a definite title—Baron, explicitly, that sort of guarantee. And since his current position is roughly that of a Count, he'd like that status preserved. He also says his trusted subordinates should each be given something like a Barony."
"The nerve of this wretch, haggling!"
"Now, now, enough. Is his position not understandable? And it will take at least that much to absorb them without unrest. For us right now, filling our supply shortfall through negotiation takes priority over fighting."
"I was shortsighted, Marquis."
"Ho ho, I shall certainly help you work off that anger later."
Marquis Public, apparently irritated himself, promised Count Turbes a future outlet. Then he drafted a new scroll and sent it back to Pharus Castle.
* * *
Morning dawned the next day.
As promised the day before, Count Turbes led his knights and departed directly for Pharus Castle. Hailon had asked for time to persuade his subordinates yesterday evening. And the final reply had stated that he would issue his surrender declaration in the morning.
Count Turbes stood before the castle gate. The gate opened, and a single rider on horseback came out.
"Why do you come out alone?"
"A rebellion broke out within the fortress yesterday. Lord Hailon is personally suppressing it and cannot come out at this moment."
"A rebellion, you say?"
Count Turbes's eyes went wide.
"Several commanders of Roselin origin, led by Baron Paul, rose up against the general. Fortunately, it ended as an attempt, and they are now being interrogated. General Hailon said that as soon as the matter is settled, he will open the gates and come out to receive you."
"Hmm."
No matter how he looked at it, something felt off.
Yesterday, he'd been willing to accept it. But when the deadline for surrender was at hand and they made excuses with talk whose true intent was impossible to read, how could he believe it?
Count Turbes's eyes swept sharply over the knight before him.
"What is your affiliation?"
"I am in Lord Hailon's personal guard."
"I will go in and confirm matters myself. Since you are surrendering anyway, that should be no issue, yes?"
At Count Turbes's words, his escort knights were startled and grabbed at him to stop him.
"You must not, Count!"
"They have not even formally surrendered yet—how can you think of risking such danger!"
Ignoring the knights who were trying to dissuade him, Count Turbes asked again.
"Well?"
"It is not my place to decide, but if you insist, I can hardly refuse. However, the opposition faction has not yet been entirely rounded up, so you must be cautious. They might target your life, Count, and use it as a pretext for war."
At the knight's reasoned explanation, Count Turbes nodded, then turned his horse and spoke with finality.
"I will wait until noon. If the matter is still not resolved by then, tell him we will send in our own soldiers to assist."
"Understood. I shall convey that."
"Let us go."
Count Turbes turned his horse away, unable to shake his unease.
The reason he had asked the Roselin knight's affiliation earlier was that he had seen bloodstains on his armor that were not yet dry. It looked as though he had tried to wipe them off, but apparently hadn't been able to attend to the crevices between the plates.
That alone was enough for him to conclude that bloodshed had indeed taken place.
If the knight had tried to stop him from entering, he would have grown more suspicious. But since that wasn't the case, he figured waiting a little longer was no problem.
Yet he still could not shake that uneasy feeling.
* * *
As noon approached, savory smells drifted from Pharus Castle. The aroma of roasting meat mingled with other scents as if a feast were being prepared, making everyone's mouth water.
"Looks like they really do mean to surrender?"
"Seems so. That's why they're making such a fuss over the food, right?"
The soldiers standing watch sniffed the air and drew their own conclusions.