Chapter 40: What It Means to Be a Commander (3)
Chapter 40: What It Means to Be a Commander (3)
The stew, filled with crumbled hardtack and salted pork, was a superb field meal for the mercenaries.
"Ahh! I never thought we'd eat a stew this loaded out in the field."
"It's good. The meat's savory and chewy without being greasy."
The herbs Varda had gathered made all the difference. They'd removed the off smell from the preserved meat and added a fresh, bright note that balanced the thick hardtack.
Just then, a mercenary began boasting about his newly fitted weapon, and the talk shifted to a debate over which weapon was best.
"It's the sword, obviously. What other weapon is as versatile? It pairs well with a shield, and the more you swing it, the more you feel your skill growing."
"But it's a flimsy weapon that'll chip the moment you swing it wrong. For a mercenary, it's the axe, of course. You save on repair costs, and the impact is devastating."
A mercenary with a spear tapped his shaft against his neck and cut in.
"Are you guys even real mercenaries? For a mercenary, not getting hit is the absolute best. You've got to retire in your later years with your body intact. And if worst comes to worst, you can at least put up a desperate fight against cavalry."
"Oh, is that so?"
The mercenary who'd been plucking his crossbow string grinned.
"Sir Knight! In your opinion, isn't the sword still the best? You took down a Wendigo with a sword, after all."
The mercenary who'd first boasted about swords asked Eugene, his tone seeking agreement.
'This bastard really dragged Sir Knight into it?'
'What a cheap trick!'
The sword was a weapon practically synonymous with knights. Everyone shot cold glares at the mercenary trying to borrow the authority of the knight's prestige.
"I'm most partial to that one myself. It makes it easy to support you lot from behind while you're fighting."
When Eugene pointed at the flail he'd propped nearby, everyone nodded. This wasn't an attempt to flatter their employer; the agreement was completely sincere.
"That guardian angel thing the priest once told me about. I came to understand it while fighting alongside you, Sir Knight."
That was because they'd experienced it: enemies they'd been clashing swords with in the village suddenly crumpling without a groan amid a deafening roar.
"I looked at the sky, thinking a bolt of lightning had struck them down."
Everyone laughed and chewed on the jujubes issued with their rations. Then the conversation shifted to what lay ahead.
"We may have to fight as soon as we reach House Morad's lands. Things around here look far worse than expected."
"What's there to worry about? It's common enough that what you hear when you take a contract is completely different from what you find when you arrive."
Eugene, who'd been listening, grew curious. In a world without anything like labor law, every mercenary had at least one bizarre story to tell.
"Could you give me an example?"
"I once signed up for what I thought was a safe defensive garrison duty, only to be thrown into a siege. The fortress had fallen while we were en route. So we had to attack it alongside the reinforcements who'd arrived late."
"Anyone would call that contract fraud."
"But what could we do? The noble commander said he'd execute anyone who tried to turn back on the spot. It's a miracle of fortune we survived at all."
The mercenaries spoke comfortably with Eugene. They couldn't help but respect an employer who listened even when they discussed matters such as sentry duty and the marching route.
Of course, they didn't mistake his tolerance for permission to overstep. They'd seen more than enough mercenaries suffer ugly consequences for doing exactly that.
A group of about twenty people was moving, led by a single knight. They were the welcoming delegation sent by House Morad to greet Eugene.
The banner of the count's house wavered despite the weak wind because the boy carrying it was only in his early teens. Holding a banner upright while riding at that age was no easy task.
"Speak up if it's too much for you."
"No, Sir Gaus! I'm honored to have been entrusted with such an important duty!"
Gaus stroked his son's head at the spirited answer. The boy who used to follow him around crying \‘Papa! Papa!\’ and acting spoiled was now on his first assignment and knew how to separate duty from family. Gaus could not have been prouder.
The boy also found the sound of his father's mail gauntlet near his ears pleasant.
"The surrounding area is far more unsettled than we imagined. If the Duran scum were to ambush us..."
The elderly scribe said worriedly.
House Morad now stood on the brink of war with House Duran, which supported the Emperor.
One knight, a young squire, ten household soldiers, six manservants and maids, an old scribe, and a single wagon laden with welcoming supplies.
It was a sufficient party for greeting an invited guest, but if the enemy house mobilized its knights for a surprise attack, they'd face a horrific situation.
"No declaration of war has arrived yet. Even bastards as reckless as they are won't ignore the most basic conventions."
"Sir Gaus. I'm not sure we can expect such things from the Duran lot."
The scribe sighed inwardly. Honorable knights tended to assume their opponents' behavior would follow their own standards.
"We can't turn back now, either. Letting Sir Eugene come to the castle all alone would be a disgrace to House Morad."
"That is true, but still."
"The rest of our forces are busy with their own duties. We should be grateful our lord assigned us even this much."
The knight wasn't taking the danger lightly either. Given his orders and the circumstances, he simply had no other choice.
"I wish we could meet that knight soon."
"Once he joins up with us, we'll have nothing to worry about."
Gaus and the scribe agreed with the servants. If they could just join up with Eugene, they would have nothing to fear on the return journey.
But things always had a way of going wrong at moments like this—especially when an old man had been worrying about exactly that.
When the delegation reached a crossroads, a party of over thirty approached from the left.
"...Prepare for battle."
Gaus's face twisted.
Three knights led the approaching group, with well-armed mercenaries behind them. Their greedy expressions made their purpose obvious.
"Greetings! To meet the honorable Sir Gaus here — what a pleasure!"
The knight who looked to be the leader smirked slyly. He was a vassal of House Duran, one Gaus knew.
"Sir Godrick. This is Morad territory. What business brings you here with such a force?"
"I came to send the traitors defying His Majesty the Emperor straight to the afterlife."
As Duran's three knights drew their swords, the mercenaries behind them readied their own weapons.
"All hands, attack! Cut down the Morad curs!"
"You honorless sons of bitches!"
The enraged Gaus and his household soldiers leveled their weapons as well.
They were outnumbered three to one in knights and soldiers alike. Anyone could see the fight was hopeless, and despair showed on every face.
"Kill them, loot them, rape them! Hahahaha!"
The Duran raiders fell upon the delegation sent to welcome Eugene.
"Sir Knight. There are people up ahead who appear to be resting."
A mercenary on scouting duty came running to report.
"How many?"
"A little more than us, I think, and they have two knights."
"They might be the ones who came out to meet me. It's about time they showed themselves."
When the head of a house invited a guest, it was only proper courtesy to send a welcoming party.
"If they were the welcoming party, we should be able to see House Morad's banner—the one you showed us. We can't, and the mood is far too hostile too."
The mercenaries took the hint and stopped chatting. They tightened the armor they were wearing, checked their crossbow strings, and loaded bolts.
Soon, the resting mercenaries ahead came into view. As reported, there were two heavily armed knights.
As they drew closer, Eugene realized the men had just come out of a fight. Several had blood running from wounds beneath armor they had thrown on in haste.
"Halt."
The knight barring their path stretched out his palm and shouted.
"Who are you, and where have you come from?"
"..."
Instead of answering, Eugene looked past the knight into the other group.
In a corner knelt three men, bound tight. One of them was dressed as a scribe, thoroughly out of place in such a scene.
"Aaaaaah!"
"Won't this bitch stay still? Do you want to be strung up too?"
Some mercenaries were roughly herding half-naked maidservants into one spot. Corpses were piled beside the smashed wagon, and a boy hung from a nearby tree, his neck in a noose, swaying.
"Young master."
The old man in scribe's garb who'd been forced to his knees gazed up at the tree with hollow eyes. Tears streaked from his wrinkled eyelids.
Eugene swept all these sights in a single instant.
"I asked you a question. Identify yourself."
The opposing knight placed his hand on his sword hilt and asked again.
Finally, Eugene's gaze came to rest upon the banner of House Morad, lying discarded on the ground and smeared with mud.
"Rein of House Mild."
As Eugene answered, he brought his hand behind his back and gave the hand signal for battle preparation.
"...!"
The mercenaries' breathing briefly faltered, but they kept their composure without any change in expression.
"I've never heard that name before."
"I'd expect that. I'm from an obscure house on the frontier. And you?"
"Sir Godrick, knight of the mighty House Duran."
The wariness in the two knights' eyes disappeared, replaced by contempt. That was because Eugene had spoken with a commoner's accent. It was how they'd look at the son of some nouveau-riche household, made a knight with coin.
"You look to have been through some rough fighting. Could you tell me what happened here?"
"By His Majesty the Emperor's command, I was punishing the fools who oppose him. They were scurrying about like rats when they ought to have been barricading themselves in their castle, and we caught them red-handed."
"Traitorous curs!"
The knight beside Godrick spat toward the corpses. Even while badly outnumbered, Gaus of House Morad had managed to take one of the Duran knights with him.
Furious over the death of a longtime friend, the man had hanged Gaus's son, yet his rage still hadn't subsided.
"Sir Rein. What brings you here?"
"It's obvious when a knight comes leading mercenaries into land thick with the scent of war, isn't it?"
When Eugene drew a circle with his thumb and forefinger, the opposing mercenaries let out snickers here and there.
"Ahem."
Godrick, on the other hand, found Eugene's attitude coarse. His accent and manner of speech made him seem an utterly uneducated lout.
"Have you decided on a destination?"
"Not yet."
Eugene shrugged.
"I came up from a backwater with no connections. I heard war was brewing in Roman, so I headed this way. Judging by the atmosphere, finding work shouldn't be difficult."
"How fortunate. Would you perhaps consider working for House Duran?"
"If the pay's good enough."
"I guarantee you'll find no one in this region who rewards their men as generously as we do."
Eugene pretended to mull it over for a moment, then readily nodded.
"A fine decision. Surely it will prove an opportunity for your advancement as well."
"Thanks. I've always dreamed of receiving a decent fief in Roman."
Godrick didn't like the knight personally, but he judged Eugene more than adequate as a combat asset.
He had good equipment, a powerful build, and a respectable number of mercenaries. He would make a useful independent detachment.
'We've beaten down those Morad scum and gained fresh forces to boot. The gods do bless me.'
Godrick smiled with satisfaction, pleased that he could now report a major achievement to his house.
Eugene took a wine bottle from his saddle, drank from it heartily, and approached the two knights.
Gulp, gulp!
After letting out a magnificent belch, he offered the bottle to Godrick.
"Since we're bound by fate now, how about a drink?"
To refuse a newly-made comrade's gesture of goodwill would be discourteous. Besides, the aroma rising from the wine bottle was so excellent his mouth watered.
Gulp.
The moment the wine entered his mouth, Godrick's eyes widened.
"This tastes remarkably good. Where did you get it?"
Godrick passed the bottle to his fellow knight with an exclamation of admiration.
"I got it from Benjamin."
"Ah, Benja... what?"
The knight beside him, who had been drinking the wine, broke into a violent coughing fit.
"Cough! Cough!"
He must have choked badly, because he couldn't even lift his head, his upper body shaking as if he were coughing up blood.
"He gave it to me as a gift and told me I absolutely had to come to House Morad."
Eugene's gauntleted fist flew into Godrick's face as he stared at him with a dumb look.
WHAM!
Godrick's body flew backward, a spectacular spray of blood bursting from his nose. He'd pulled his punch; the man wouldn't die.
"You bas—cough!"
His fellow knight tried to draw his sword and attack, but he couldn't gather himself because of the wine that had gone down his windpipe. Eugene seized his sword-wrist.
CRACK!
"Aaargh!"
With the crack of breaking bone, the sword fell to the ground. Eugene grabbed the incapacitated knight by the collar and hurled him backward.
"Welcome aboard!"
The mercenaries who'd been waiting pounced and bound him in an instant.
"You goddamn bastard! Pulling a cheap trick like that!"
"A cheap trick is better treatment than a dog like you deserves, isn't it?"
Eugene replied coolly and looked toward the enemy mercenaries. They still hadn't quite grasped the sudden turn of events.
"We're taking down these vicious bandits! Follow me!"
At Eugene's command, his mercenaries charged.
Fweeeet—!
At Homi's signal, Eugene's crossbowmen loosed their bolts as if they'd been waiting for exactly this moment.
"Ghk!"
"Kgh!"
House Duran's mercenaries, who'd been scrambling for their crossbows, went down one after another.
They'd lost their strongest assets—the knights—at the very start, and they were already exhausted and wounded from the previous battle. After being ambushed on top of that, the fight was already lost.
'Finally, a ransom!'
Eugene was thinking about the two knights he'd captured alive.
A tournament champion's purse, subjugation pay, battlefield spoils, even monster byproducts. He'd mastered all the various ways a knight could earn coin, and now the one thing he had yet to taste had fallen into his grasp.
All the effort he had put into taking them alive, even acting a part he normally never bothered with, had paid off.