Negotiation? More Like Blackmail

Asics Count's manor castle. With all three families utterly defeated, the atmosphere in the lord's castle was like a funeral home. The territory's residents didn't care who ruled them as long as it didn't harm them, but the ruling class felt differently. The knights had been massacred, and all the officers were dead—things were so dire that the families themselves might vanish entirely.

In the lord's castle, the lords had been dragged in looking like ragged survivors and forced to kneel. I lounged arrogantly on the lord's throne, looking down at them.

"You've got two choices."

They raised their heads. Perhaps terrified by the battle's horrors, the lords trembled violently.

"Die right here, or accept my terms. If you hear them and don't like 'em, just say so. I'll smash your skulls on the spot."

"W-We surrender unconditionally! Please, have mercy!"

"Mercy? I don't know the meaning of the word. Kainus, show these bastards the map and the agreement."

"As you wish."

With a graceful flourish, Kainus unrolled the map and distributed the agreements.

"Gasp!"

"This madman!"

"Huh? What'd you say?"

"N-Nothing! I was just so shocked..."

Their hands shook uncontrollably. Even paying the reparations and loans as-is would cause massive losses. The loans were basically just money I was extorting, and forcing them to offer me 100,000 gold in tribute(?) every year meant they'd be beggars in just a few years. Not to mention, the red-marked territory was over half their lands, and prisoner negotiations were separate. If they couldn't pay for the prisoners? I'd turn them all into slaves, toss them in the mines, or make them serfs.

"Urk!"

"Krrgh!"

Asics and Leon groaned, while Baron Hamon outright wailed. At this rate, their families' downfall was only a matter of time.

"What are you waiting for? Do I look that idle to you? Boys!"

"Yes, my lord!"

The knights glared fiercely. One battle had disciplined them perfectly.

"If they don't stamp their seals in ten seconds, just smash their heads in. Beheading's too lenient."

"Yes, sir! Leave it to us!"

The knights barked their responses with gusto. Their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fighting was so-so, but their voices boomed like thunder.

I started counting. "Oh? Already five seconds gone."

Grrrrr.

The knights dragged in maces and flails, brutal weapons caked with chunks of flesh. The sight alone would crush the lords with dread.

"One second. Just kill 'em all."

"Waaaait! We'll sign! We'll sign right now!"

They stamped the agreements frantically. I snatched the ink-still-wet documents from their hands. Then I flicked a single gold coin at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Count Asics.

Ting! Clang!

"That's your advance interest for a hundred years. Cherish it. Hahaha!"

"Th-Thank you!"

They wore grotesque expressions—were they smiling or furious? Whatever. Losers don't get a say.

After Baron Aron departed, the three lords were utterly dumbfounded. The agreements they'd stamped were loaded with terms harsh enough to uproot their family pillars entirely.

"We're done for... ruined. Sob!"

Baron Hamon collapsed to the floor, bawling like a child. Count Asics couldn't accept reality; his unfocused eyes wandered blankly. Viscount Leon was the first to regain his wits.

"Count, he's heading north anyway."

"Ughhh."

"Count!"

"We're screwed. Ruined!"

"Once he leaves for the northern expedition, we can reclaim our territories!"

"And then what?"

"While he's gone, we train an army..."

"Stop with the nonsense! Didn't you see? If Baron Aron hears and abandons the expedition to march back, our families are done—extinct!"

"So we just sit here and take it?"

"Who said anything about sitting still?!"

The massive reparations and lost territory were bad enough; prisoner talks hadn't even started. Most prisoners would end up slaves. If they were lucky, non-main-force captives might be released—but that would hand the knife to their enemies hilt-first. Starting something now wasn't wise.

Crunch!

Of course, Asics had no intention of rolling over.

"We'll send a letter to the Duke. He won't want our noble faction weakened."

"But we've already been pushed out of court politics..."

"Hey! We still have our territories, don't we?!"

In the end, this was a feudal society. As long as nobles held power and waged wars, even border lords wouldn't be ignored by the Duke.

Time to rest a bit. I'd resupply here and march on the capital tomorrow morning. That meant I could slack off until then. The gods should be satisfied for now—no need for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crisis mode. Better to think about how to act in the imperial palace.

I'd commandeered Count Asics's room for a rare chance to read a novel, but Vice Knight Captain Harlin entered.

"Heh heh, my lord. A war merchant wants an audience. May we grant the lowly merchant that honor?"

I glanced at Harlin. He used to hiccup at the sight of me; now he'd switched to bootlicking? We were marching on the capital, and with me leading the northern subjugation, war merchants were swarming. Sharel couldn't handle supplies alone anyway—merchants were inevitable, even if it cost money.

"Let him in."

"You heard! The lord grants audience!"

"..."

Was the flattery a bit much? Soon, the war merchant Amon approached. Now I remembered. A merchant's smiling face, but cold eyes—the head of one of the empire's top three merchant houses. He'd profited handsomely from the protagonist's conquest war. He looked like an ordinary old man, but he'd clawed his way up from nothing, commanding assassins and an info guild. A real heavyweight.

"Heh heh, it's an honor for this worthless old man to meet you, my lord."

"Amon, long time no see?"

"Indeed. The sight of you storming Espado Palace alone and slaughtering the enemy still burns in my eyes."

"Yeah, something like that happened."

"In my humble opinion, even the giantkin won't stand a chance against you, my lord. And the spoils... oh, the spoils will be immense."

"Oh ho, you saw that far?"

"Heh heh heh! Am I not a war merchant?"

"Hm, true enough."

An ordinary-looking old man. Cold eyes, but a classic merchant's smile on his lips. Only those seasoned in politics would spot the real Amon behind those crescent eyes. If I weren't the author who'd created him, I'd have dismissed him as just another merchant. But exploiting what he had could make for a win-win.

"What you want is sales rights on the giantkin war spoils, right?"

"To read my mind so keenly—truly, your insight is unparalleled, my lord."

"Insight, my ass. Any war merchant would salivate over that. I'm only considering you out of old sentiment. You gave good prices on spoils back then."

"Heh heh heh! For a merchant, credit is life, after all."

"I know mutual benefit lasts longest. You think the same, don't you?"

"One-sided deals never endure. You seem enlightened in the ways of the world, my lord."

Merchants flatter when they want something. But relationships don't always favor them.

"After the giantkin conquest, my territory will balloon. Not a viscounty—looking at it now, it'll be a county for sure. These guys I just fleeced aren't imperial loyalists, so if I hint at swinging back their way, the emperor will recognize it. Plus, conquest merits mean nearby territories annexed."

"Undoubtedly so, my lord."

"First, we match weight classes for the future. Gotta grow mine. I've got some business ideas, one being the monster industry."

"Monster... industry?"

"Yeah. Soon, adventurers and mercenaries will flock to our territory, and we'll hunt steadily—floods of monster corpses hitting the market. Hm, but who to handle that volume? No suitable merchant comes to mind..."

"...!"

Amon's eyes curved deeper into crescents. A sycophantic smile on his lips, but in that moment, he saw massive potential in me. With this power, not playing a central role in the empire made no sense. Growth was obvious. If he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't see that, he should quit trading and farm.

Thud!

He dropped to one knee and cried out, "Use this old man, and I'll shatter my bones to the last!"

"Nah, I don't trust merchant loyalty. Who knows when you'll stab me in the back? With merchants, it's profit only."

"A hundred times right, my lord. Now I see—you're leveraging your infamous reputation for grand plans. Impressive... and worthy of respect."

"Doesn't matter if it's just cashing in on my bad name."

"For a lord as shrewd as you to offer this humble merchant such a deal, you must want something specific."

"Oh, nothing much."

"...!"

Nothing much for stakes this high? This was Amon's specialty—no one else could do it. And in the novel, he'd already pulled it off for me, so he'd manage here too.

"Find the original manuscript of Jupiter's Scripture. Bring it before the giantkin war ends, and I'll grant you exclusive sales rights. Not just that—priority on spoils too."

"I shall deliver it, without fail!"

We grinned and clasped hands.

Jupiter's Scripture. Unknown to most, but it held the holy sword's whereabouts. Time to spike those view counts. For that, I needed overwhelming power—no one could climb that high. I planned to grow stronger, faster.