Chapter 53: A Bird That Cannot Be Caged (1)
Chapter 53: A Bird That Cannot Be Caged (1)
The envoys were thrown into a panic when the garrison commander came flying toward them, accompanied by incomprehensible last words.
"Wh-what is that?!"
"Get out of the way!"
CRUNCH!
With a dull thud and a great cloud of dust, the captain of the guard met his end.
It was an unmistakable dismissal that even a fool could understand. The envoys had no choice but to leave with their shoulders slumped.
They trembled, imagining what punishment awaited them upon their return. The negotiation was hopeless to any observer, but the head of the Duran family was not a man who made allowances for such things.
"That's the end of that, then."
Roxane stretched with a refreshed expression. Her steel boots came down from tiptoe with a clear ring.
"I wondered why you didn't kill him outright and kept him alive."
"He died without any particular suffering, so shouldn't he be grateful to me?"
"That's true."
Had it been any other lord, they would have ordered a far slower and more agonizing execution.
After finishing the postwar cleanup, Roxane left behind a sufficient garrison and enough food to feed them for a year, then returned to the main castle.
The atmosphere at Goldhill was fine. The knights and soldiers loyal to the family were intact, and they had seized the thorn in their side that was Codon Castle.
"The sacks of salt go this way!"
"When is the deadline for the arrow and bolt delivery?"
"They say the fortification engineers will arrive in a week!"
With supplies and manpower pouring toward Codon Castle, the place was even busier with visitors than it had been before the war.
They had barely managed to capture the castle thanks to Roxane's supply blockade and the absurd variable that was Eugene.
Once it was more heavily fortified and its food stores were built up, the Duran family would find themselves with no conceivable way of taking it.
As the primary contributor to the castle's capture, Eugene received the right to claim the most valuable spoils within the fortress. The Morad family purchased them directly for a good price.
"I heard that some mercenaries under your command have left."
Varda spoke to Eugene, who was grinning broadly over a pouch of gold coins.
"Between their accumulated pay, the spoils, and the special siege bonus, several mercenaries came into a great deal of money. Quite a few chose not to renew their contracts and planned to return to Bonyard and settle down."
"Some things are worth more than loyalty can hold."
A mercenary's greatest wish was to reach old age in one piece and die in his own bed. Plenty of them chose peace when the opportunity finally came.
That did not mean they were abandoning mercenary work altogether. With a nest egg saved up, taking guard work or odd jobs in an established city and earning a little at a time would be enough.
"They are wise men. It is better for a mortal who has not been chosen by fate to live with sweat or soil on his hands."
"A capable warrior is not one who fights well, after all. He is one who senses when his luck is running out."
"Did you hear that from Sir Goffrey? Either way, it is an adage perfectly suited to mercenaries."
The mercenaries House Morad had assigned for the Richwood subjugation had also departed. Only fifteen mercenaries remained at Eugene's side.
More had left than he expected: the older mercenaries to retire, and the younger ones in hopes of starting families.
The mercenaries who had decided to leave seemed afraid Eugene might take offense.
-I am sorry to have to tell you this, Sir Knight.
-Not at all. I am grateful for everything you have done, and I hope the rest of your lives are peaceful. If I ever have reason to visit Bonyard, I hope we can meet again.
Eugene sincerely wished the mercenaries well and said his farewells.
'Do not detain a man who wishes to leave the battlefield.'
It was a resolution he had held since the moment he rose as a knight. Though he suspected that he himself would not find it easy to escape a fate of wandering battlefields.
The Morad family, renowned even in Roman as part of the Clear Current Faction, was strongly devout.
After returning from her successful mission, Roxane visited the temple. She bathed, changed into a white Doric chiton, and knelt before the statue of the goddess.
"O Goddess. May your wisdom ever accompany my sword on the battlefields to come..."
Behind her, a few acolyte priestesses of similar age were kneeling.
'Hmm. This is far better than an Orthodox Church service.'
This was Eugene's impression as he attended the service among them.
In his boyhood, it had been dreadful to be packed among dozens of male monks giving off a musty smell and forced into long hours of prayer.
But sitting alongside young ladies who gave off the scent of soap and attending a short service was a pleasant experience.
-I plan to hold a service before I see my father. I must offer a prayer of thanks for the victory.
-If it is allowed, I will attend with you.
-Truly?
Roxane gladly accepted Eugene's unexpected proposal.
When her prayer ended, Eugene also opened his mouth.
"O merciful goddess."
"...!"
Everyone looked surprised when Eugene, whom they'd assumed would simply be present, offered up a prayer.
"Guide us to hold in balance the two virtues: the strength to crush the enemy, and the strength to rebuild what has been destroyed..."
The surprise grew greater at the verses Eugene recited. To think he even knew the doctrine, at least the basics. Most knights only sought the gods on the battlefield and found the study of faith extremely bothersome.
"That was a fine prayer, Sir Knight."
"The goddess will surely be more pleased than usual with the abundant offerings."
The priestesses looked upon Eugene with great favor.
"As expected of someone who lived in a monastery, you are different. I wondered if you might be forcing yourself to do this for my sake."
"Not at all. Lady Roxane looked so devout that even I felt cleansed just watching you."
"Flattery doesn't suit you."
Roxane snorted and clapped Eugene on the shoulder, though she did not look displeased in the slightest.
After the service, the two of them headed for the war council chamber. As the war was still ongoing, the vassals who had retreated were discussing future measures.
"Roxane."
"Yes, my lord Count."
"The report you sent on the process of taking the castle. Are you certain there is not an inch of exaggeration in it?"
"...Yes."
Roxane could not answer at once. The bizarre expression on her father's face—one she had never seen before—nearly made her laugh.
"I would like to see this battering ram said to have been used for the capture."
"Regrettably, it was dismantled and used to make the castle gates. The existing gates were destroyed beyond any possibility of use."
"...I see. You have done well."
While Roxane struggled to keep a straight face, curling even her toes with the effort, the Count returned to the original subject.
"The defeat at Goldford is regrettable, but seizing Codon Castle holds great meaning. Our true enemy is the Duran family, not the Emperor. Those bastards must now feel as if a thorn is lodged in their throats every single day."
The Count handed Roxane a marker bearing the family's flag.
"Place it upon Codon with your own hands. For that place is now your domain."
"!"
A startled Roxane carefully placed the marker upon the map.
She had been granted a strategic stronghold that, despite its low population and yield, would receive enormous support from the main house. Even if Timothy returned, he could no longer treat Roxane lightly.
"It will be the place our army passes through most often from now on, so I hope you will manage it well."
"I will do my utmost until the day the Durans kneel."
The Count looked at another meritorious figure.
"Viscount Boldwin. I am grateful that you gathered the army and retreated with minimal losses, even in that crisis."
"It was merely my duty as a subject to the Count."
The representative of the vassals, who had forced a breakthrough with swift judgment to escape, gave a military salute. Without his resourcefulness, the damage would have been far greater.
"Praise is undeserved for one who was defeated and fled. Please, punish me for the fault of failing to save Lord Timothy."
"The one who should be punished is the commander who was captured from the very start, not you. Since you achieved the best possible outcome in an abrupt succession, speak no more of this matter."
The Count had mentioned his son only once.
-Prepare measures for Timothy's repatriation.
While the Count briefly stepped away, the nobles chattered about the return of the family heir. The interesting thing was that no one appeared urgent or worried.
"Wouldn't that be too great a sum?"
"We must show sincerity to this extent for the Duran scum to even consider the trade. Is he not the eldest son of the great Morad family, of all people?"
"I raise the point only because it would be a shame to offer so much."
"They might demand Codon Castle in lieu of coin."
"Speak sense. His Excellency the Count would refuse that as well."
The conversation exchanged among the vassals had a feel closer to haggling over luxury goods. Not a single grain of respect or worry for the heir could be seen.
No, rather than that...
"Don't those fellows seem like they're secretly hoping something goes wrong for Timothy in enemy hands?"
"Indeed, many would rather wish for Roxane to become the formal heir at this opportunity."
At Eugene's whisper, Varda smiled.
"I am among them."
"You say such frightening things with a smiling face."
"If Lady Roxane becomes the heir, it will be ideal for your advancement. The people one most wants to reward are those who stood by them when things were difficult."
Eugene was grateful that the magician he respected was looking out for him, but he also felt a bit of sorrow.
That kind-hearted girl who walked the wheat fields, even at the risk of catching a fever. Where had the compassion that saved starving farmers gone?
"Let us end today's council here. Sir Eugene, remain. Everyone else, leave us."
At Count Morad's words, the vassals filed out. They looked upon the young knight sitting alone with envious eyes.
For it was a very difficult thing to gain such attention from that cold-hearted liege lord. Even though he was far below them in station, it was inevitable that, as fellow knights, they would feel jealous.
"They say you alone defeated Geist and the knights under his command?"
"They say he drove a battering ram to break the gate and ground the entire infantry line blocking the rear into paste."
"Your boast is overdone. Do speak something that makes sense."
"It's not just one or two people who witnessed it, I tell you!"
They had already forgotten the matter of the captured Timothy and were chattering away about the siege.
Count Morad was a straightforward man. He disliked wasting time with useless, flowery words.
"I wish to discuss the reward to be given to you. Are you ready to hear about the domain you will receive?"
"Of course."
"There are two options before you."
It was an unexpected proposal. Usually, the granting of a domain was decided according to the noble's own interests; it was rare to be given a choice like this.
The Count's fingers tapped three spots on the map laid out on the table. They were villages surrounded by friendly domains and safe from the threat of war.
The marked populations combined amounted to about seven hundred. They had no particular cash crops, but the land was good and abounded in wheat, barley, beans, and various livestock.
"They are fine domains. More than I had anticipated."
"It is as you say. These places require little need for guards, and even if left alone, they churn out silver coins on their own."
To put it another way, the three villages were already complete in themselves and had no potential for growth. Their entire output consisted of honest cattle-raising and the wheat, barley, and beans they planted.
It would fall far short of the income Eugene earned by traveling about and selling his martial strength.
"The other is this place."
Count Morad's finger moved upward. It passed beyond the high-quality, detailed region of the map and rose steadily into the lower-quality outer territories.
The Count's finger stopped at a village in the north of Roman. Its name was North Fork. The name came from the way three branches of land spread out like the tines of a fork at a great river.
"It is a domain in a place completely set apart. Is it an inheritance from an outside noble?"
"It is. It was acquired less than a year ago. Benjamin's work."
"No wonder Your Excellency has no choice but to dote on your younger brother."
Since nobles were few and married among themselves, they were inevitably connected by blood even to nobles far away.
Naturally, when a lord without an heir died, all manner of factions would intervene and wage a succession war.
Every powerful house had the experience of swallowing an external domain in that manner. Thus, it was a common thing for a noble family's domains to be distributed and scattered.
"It looks to be a village with a port and considerable potential."
"It is a place that, for a mere village, has no fewer than three large inns."
Three large inns in a single village. It was a point that succinctly explained North Fork's character. Many villages did not even have one proper inn.
The population, livestock, and yield figures were naturally lower than the other villages. But via the great river, it was a trading hub that could reach out not only to the inland sea but to every corner of Roman.