Chapter 48: Monsters and Pirates (5)
Chapter 48: Monsters and Pirates (5)
"Gruhk."
"Cough! Cough!"
"Urrrregh."
The pirates who had surrendered and barely made it to the riverbank spat out the water they had swallowed. Caught as they were in the sinking ship while wearing armor, they hadn't been able to swim properly.
They were mercilessly bound by the waiting garrison troops. Perhaps it was a tribal custom, but the pirates all wore their hair long, which made for perfect handholds.
"Aaargh! My hair! My haaair!"
"I said I can walk on my own feet!"
The guards and mercenaries roughly grabbed the pirates by the hair and dragged them ashore.
PING!
"Ack!"
The pirates who refused to surrender were struck by bolts and floated up onto the river. Even the fishing boats they had mocked were swifter than the swimming of a wounded and exhausted man.
"There's another one. Bring the boat alongside at once."
The fishermen who had volunteered for the operation rowed closer to the drifting pirate. Their skill, honed over decades of handling boats, was in no way inferior to the pirates' own.
"You cowardly bastards! Is it fun killing people who can't resist?"
"Uh, yeah, it's really fun. And aren't you ones to talk?"
The mercenaries were dumbfounded by the struggling pirates. They knew them to be conscienceless scum, but wasn't this too much?
The pirates knew escape was impossible, but they had no choice.
To be caught pirating meant hanging, at the very least. Even with luck, one had to row until their lungs rotted in a hellish coal mine or their joints wore away on a slave galley.
"S-spare me! I can't swim!"
One pirate raised both hands high, pleading.
PING!
Immediately, clutching his pierced throat, he pitched face-first into the water.
"You should say you surrender, not beg to be spared."
Outside of battle, the mercenaries enjoyed moonshine and gambling. Inside of battle, what they enjoyed was dispatching helpless enemies like this.
Stress was bound to build up as it was fundamentally a life-risking job, and such cathartic opportunities were rare.
In a way, it could be called cruel and savage. But this, too, was one aspect of the creatures called mercenaries. Eugene, who understood the stress of battle, turned a blind eye to this much.
"Surrender! Su-render!"
Faced with a truly hopeless situation, the pirates abandoned everything. For there had been troops camped and waiting even on the opposite bank of the river, their last hope.
"Any double nobles among you? I swear upon my honor to guarantee your safety until a ransom is received."
Eugene asked the pirates, who were half dead, but received no answer.
"There are nobles who pilot large ships and plunder in the inland sea. Lordly families who have built wealth over generations of piracy. But if they are scum raiding villages on rivers, it is rather obvious, is it not?"
"That's true."
At the scribe's words, Eugene swallowed his disappointment. Having once tasted gold coins through ransom, he now checked a prisoner's status first whenever he captured one.
"What shall you do with those who surrendered? No slave trader passes through these parts, however."
The pirates trembled at the scribe's oblique reference to execution.
"Rather than just kill them, I'll have to put them to more efficient use."
Eugene smiled coldly. After hearing of their atrocities from the refugees from the upper village, he could no longer see them as fellow human beings.
Thus, wooden posts were erected in the village square, next to the bugbear's head. The captain, the navigator, and other high-ranking pirates were stripped naked and bound tightly.
"Cursed wretches!"
"Sons of bitches! Give me back my husband!"
Driven by vengefulness for the plunder and their kin, the villagers threw stones.
"Aaargh!"
"Just kill me! Please!"
The pirates shrieked in the agony of their whole bodies being pulped, but a quick death would be difficult. For fishing nets had been draped over their heads.
It was the handiwork of fishermen whose rage hadn't been quenched. Even the mercenaries couldn't help but admire the touch of adding rotten fish to the nets.
Returning to the mansion, Eugene stripped off his upper garments and lay prone on the bed. It was because of the dull pain he felt in the muscles of his right arm.
Homi climbed onto his back above his waist; her proportions were so good that, for her tall height, her weight was light.
Squeeze, squeeze.
With oiled hands, she carefully massaged her lord's right arm and shoulder.
Press. Press.
Her hands were larger than an average woman's, but her fingers were slender and strong. She could apply a delicate yet sufficient stimulus to the knotted muscles.
"I think I'll live. Thank you."
"♪♪~"
Humming a tune, Homi's thick tail escaped her control.
Tap! Tap!
It was striking the prone Eugene's thigh as it pleased. The only one with a displeased face was the mage.
"I acknowledge that you were born with prodigious strength, Eugene, but overconfidence in your body can still be dangerous."
His joints and ligaments were unharmed, but his muscles had been overloaded. It was because he had thrown using only his right arm, his main arm, as precision was needed.
"Had you thrown a few more times, you might have injured the muscle."
"I also stopped when I felt the muscle fibers beginning to rise."
"You didn't stop because you had smashed all the boats?"
"I couldn't risk letting them slip away. If they got scared and fled, they would become troublesome to catch again."
It had been the best choice to annihilate them in one stroke so that no word of what happened would spread across the inland sea.
"It is the way of the world that bandits and pirates spring up like weeds. You have done your part sufficiently with the monster subjugation, so there is no need to go out of your way to harm your body over it."
"Understood. I'll be more careful in the future."
It sounded almost like a nagging, but Eugene didn't dislike it in the slightest. Rather, it even stirred a feeling close to nostalgia.
"Homi. I think that's enough now, so you may get down."
Varda stopped the massage and wrapped Eugene's arm and shoulder with broad green leaves, as wide as pumpkin leaves. Binding them together by weaving their stems into knots, they tightened firmly like natural bandages.
"What's this?"
Instead of answering, Varda recited a spell.
"O life that circulates. Yield thy vitality to another."
"!"
Eugene felt the leaves grow cold and adhere to his skin. The dull ache that had run through his arm quickly vanished.
"The leaves sacrifice their own life to hasten your recovery."
'A medieval magic patch, then.'
Eugene expressed his thanks to Varda.
A squire and a mage who served him out of loyalty or friendship. Having such people by his side was a happiness beyond compare as a knight.
While Eugene received treatment, the guard force extracted information from the prisoners.
"There seem to be no other companions. They were aiming for one last score before winter and were properly caught."
Perhaps it had been a harsh interrogation, for even the reporting scribe's clothes were stained with blood.
"Are scum like these on every other river too?"
"By and large, yes. In the inland sea, if you count the smaller tribes, there are over a hundred pirate groups."
"No matter how vast the inland sea is, that's too many pirates."
"Strictly speaking, you could view it as everyone living on the inland sea frequently changing professions. Fishermen, merchants, pirates, smugglers. They switch jobs whenever an opportunity arises."
With groups being annihilated, formed, and splitting up all the time, tracking the numbers was meaningless.
"Then I can't leave with an easy mind. Won't new ones just show up again?"
"Pirates though they are, they keep their own code. This river stretch is the territory of the ones you, sir, smashed to pieces. It will be safe for at least three years before others intrude."
That much was sufficient. Eugene couldn't guard this place forever.
A few days later, after finishing maintenance and resupply, Eugene's unit departed Richwood village.
"Thank you! mercenaries!"
"They called us mercenaries, heh heh."
The fishermen who had operated the boats waved, and the village children hopped and skipped as they saw them off, warming even the rough mercenaries' hearts.
"I'll definitely come back! Wait for me!"
Meanwhile, a mercenary who'd fallen in love and a village maiden exchanged resolute glances. Such things happened occasionally among the new recruits, but with time left on his contract, he had to return for now.
"Sheesh. I trained him up through all that trouble, and he just bolts like this?"
"S-sorry."
A few veteran mercenaries spoke as if grilling him, but their expressions were gentle.
"Forget it, you rascal. Quitting the mercenary life and settling down like this is the best possible choice."
"Lucky bastard."
Living by the sword could earn a fortune in one stroke, but it was dangerous and the future was uncertain.
Settling down when the chance came was the right choice. If he blended in by marrying a member of the village, there would be no trouble with being seen as an outsider; it was perfect.
The mercenaries' steps were light on the return journey. They had completed their mission without a single death, and their stamina was intact as they'd been staying in the village.
They had sent a messenger pigeon ahead, so news of the mission's completion would soon be relayed.
Meanwhile, the Duran family proposed peace negotiations in exchange for a considerable sum in reparations, but Count Morad rejected it out of hand.
"You chose the start of this war, but we shall decide when it ends."
"My count. Given this amount, wouldn't it be better to accept and conclude things amicably?"
The sum was far larger than anticipated, so Timothy hoped for a truce.
"Should the perception spread that matters can be settled with money after they've shed our blood, the fear of us will also weaken."
"Even so, we cannot finish them off completely."
Duran was not some minor house ruling over a mere few hundred people. They were a power the emperor himself paid attention to and sought an alliance with.
A great noble house of this scale was practically never exterminated. They would have to live facing each other for long years to come. Even if the kingdom of Roman itself fell.
"We may not be able to finish them off, but we can at least cleave off a few fingers. Only fifty years ago, those wretches dared not even meet our eyes."
The successive heads of House Morad had personalities similar to Benjamin's. However, the previous head was so good-natured as to be almost lax, and those who thought him easy prey multiplied like bamboo shoots after rain.
Had the current count not succeeded as head of the family, the Duran family would have overrun the territory trying to devour even more, let alone propose peace negotiations.
"There will be no truce until we extract double the blood price."
With Count Morad's declaration, two armies, led respectively by Timothy and Roxane, marched out.
Timothy had inherited lands and thus mobilized a personal army. Many vassals and knights eager to curry favor with the heir also participated, forming a powerful elite legion.
Roxane, the second-born, lacked her own power base, so the count hired mercenaries to support her.
'Sir Eugene already completed his mission?'
Hearing the news, both siblings simultaneously sent requests to the returning Eugene to join their respective armies.
"Tsk. He's barely finished his work, and they're already calling him back."
Caught in the middle, Eugene only felt troubled, though.
"Does it not mean they value you that highly? Even Count Morad likely did not expect it to be wrapped up this quickly."
"Be that as it may, it seems I will have to join the expedition of either Timothy or Roxane."
"There is also the option of just returning to Goldhill and resting. Do you not like that?"
It was a tempting offer, but Eugene shook his head.
"It'd be better to properly indebt them when I have the chance. The forest monster subjugation feels a little lacking to earn a territory."
If he joined the campaign in this war as well, it would be sufficient.
"A good judgment. Moreover, it is a war where the houses' eldest son and eldest daughter have marched out, so you will likely be accompanying them closely rather than standing at the vanguard."
"Hmm."
Rationally, following Timothy was the correct course. Incompetent and personally disagreeable as he was, he was the heir.
"It seems you wish to join Sir Roxane's army."
"Was it that obvious? To be precise, I don't want to be with Timothy."
While staying as a guest, Eugene had gathered information on the count and his two children.
Roxane possessed outstanding martial prowess and leadership, a proven knight who had led several battles to victory.
Conversely, Timothy was a spectacle in himself. He was the worst combination: stupid yet diligent, with an overbearing pride.
"Then there is nothing to agonize over. You may simply join Sir Roxane."
"Won't ignoring Timothy's invitation bring trouble later? He is nominally the heir."
"You can make an excuse. Say that Sir Roxane's letter arrived first and you had already sent a reply."
"No, would such a flimsy excuse work unless he's an idiot?"
Varda nodded with a calm face.
"It will work. If the target is Timothy."
"..."
"Of course, that alone won't do it. You just need to offer a suitable bribe and express your regrets."
Having been active in Roman for a long time, Varda knew the man called Timothy well.
"He is a cowardly and incompetent man with an excessive greed for talent. He will absolutely not turn you into an enemy. If you just give him a pretext, he will let it go, convincing himself that whatever works, works."
"If such a man is the heir, Count Morad must have many worries."
"What can be done? If the custom of the firstborn inheriting is broken, all manner of strife is sure to begin."
After a moment's deliberation, Eugene decided to join Roxane.
"A sound decision. Count Morad is still in his prime. Inheritance is far off in any case."
"And all the renowned vassals are already attached to Timothy's side; even if I go, there would be nothing for me to gain."
People remember those who helped them in times of hardship and need. As long as the count watched from behind, he would have no worries about recompense.