A Merchant of Men and an Angel in Hell
Johan was thoroughly pleased with himself. To think he'd landed a chance to get close to the blood of House Brudhe this easily.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't so much getting close as it was simply acquiring him...
The blood of Brudhe — and the third child, no less. That's infinitely valuable.
In this era, bloodline carried tremendous worth. All the more so when it belonged to a house as renowned as Brudhe. Just as Stefan of the Abner family had nothing to his name yet could still trade on his family name alone, so too could Hormaric.
Except Hormaric was different from Stefan. Stefan had blundered so many times that he'd nearly exhausted what property he once held. Hormaric, however...
"But surely His Grace the Duke granted you things of your own. Have you already lost those as well?"
"No, my lord! How could such a thing be possible!"
Johan's guess was dead on. Just as Lepiata had received a city, Hormaric too had been granted something by the Duke.
Yet unlike his siblings, Hormaric had little confidence he could hold on to that territory and property. It came down to the location.
"But it's as good as lost already, my lord. His Grace gave me the wretched little islands south of the Edene Sea, and do you know how many villainous wretches prowl those waters? And so far away from here at that..."
Hormaric had been handed an island in the middle of a sea teeming with petty kingdoms, city-states, and heathens in their raiding ships, and he had no hope whatsoever of defending it. Hire more mercenaries with the gold he'd received and take up residence as the lord himself? And what if he got captured there? Hormaric simply didn't have the nerve for that.
"There's no shame in it, my lord. Surviving this long is achievement enough."
"Ohhh! My lord! Why did I only meet a man like you now..."
Johan doubted Hormaric could have filled the magistrate's place even with the man dead — Lepiata hardly looked the pushover, and Lepiata had retainers of his own besides.
Of course, with the constant dread of ending up penniless hanging over him, it was only natural that Hormaric couldn't think straight. Even after that, Johan kept tightening and loosening the leash until Hormaric was wholly his. When Johan and Stefan left the mansion, Hormaric went so far as to petition to stay in Johan's camp outright.
"Don't worry yourself too much, my lord. My friendship will protect you. Don't be swayed by what others say, and when the time comes to make a decision, lean on me."
"I will! I absolutely will! My lord!"
"Truly, you see everything in this world."
"No kidding. I was dead certain Lord Hormaric had hired the mercenaries himself."
"Well, not everyone in this world tries to murder their own kin..."
"......"
Stefan stared at Johan with a look of profound displeasure.
Then what about me...?
"Regardless, well done, Stefan. I had no idea we could make such connections through an opportunity like this."
From what he'd heard, the people around Hormaric were mostly merchants, artists, and priests. What promising young knights served under the Duke had gravitated toward the firstborn and secondborn, and besides, Hormaric wasn't the sort of noble who could command knights in the first place.
Under those circumstances, Johan must have looked like an angel descended into hell.
"Here we are."
Johan was drawing up a map as he toured the area around Dorak and Palmon, with several dozen elite fighters trailing behind as his escort.
Passing travelers and farmers couldn't even breathe properly, keeping their heads bowed the whole time. Word of what had happened in the city was slowly starting to spread.
"What do you think?"
"A decent village, my lord. The fishing is fairly good around here, so we could collect a bit more grain, and the livestock they keep..."
The orc from the Aliham family had kept his word. He'd sent a man fit to serve as steward. When asked, the man said he'd studied at a university on the Catalia Peninsula and learned arithmetic under a famous surveyor.
Perhaps that was why he calculated with eastern numerals — not the numerals of the Ancient Empire — without a moment's hesitation.
He asked with a slightly nervous face.
"Is there anything else you'd like to instruct me on, my lord?"
No matter how brilliant your teacher or how vast your accumulated knowledge, it meant nothing to a lord. In the end, you worked to suit a noble's tastes. Knights like Johan tended to make outlandish demands — squeezing a few hundred gold coins out of a village like this, for instance...
"Collect the taxes according to custom. Be lenient when times are hard, less lenient when they're good."
"Oh. Yes. I'll see to it."
The steward was taken aback by the unexpectedly generous and reasonable words.
"I'll give you some silver, so hire freemen who can work for a year. No need to drive out the rootless folk of the domain — value them too and hire them. I've spoken to the Kettana Merchant Guild, so you should be able to buy farming tools at a good price; use them on the demesne fields. If other serfs see them and want to use them, sell at a fair price. Come spring, plant beans in the fallow fields, and if anyone objects, tell them it's an order and enforce it firmly. When you gather grain, don't sell it to Umdim just because it's close — sell it near Vayen even if it's farther. And we need to expand the herds on that unused pastureland. Buy sheep cheap in autumn when..."
"W-wait. One moment, if you please."
The steward nearly had a seizure. He had never imagined he'd receive instructions this meticulous and detailed.
From a knight — a lord, no less?
Flustered as he was, he wrote it all down one item at a time. Now he understood why the Aliham family had said, 'That knight may well shock you. Be prepared to tell us what surprised you when you return.'
When the instructions were finished, the steward dashed off toward the village with a few soldiers — to verify the orders Johan had given.
Kaenerna asked, as if she couldn't comprehend it.
"Where did you learn all that?"
"From a priest who served my domain when I was young."
"Ah. So that's why you're so devout."
At Kaenerna's words, Swetelgr had to grip the reins of his horse hard. Johan, meanwhile, nodded with a grave expression.
"Is the Lord not my spear, my shield, the armor guarding my breast?"
"...Hold on. I distinctly remember you saying...?"
"So, what's your read on Hormaric?"
"If what he says is true, there's no loss in it, is there."
"That's what I figure. Hormaric didn't seem to have many useful knights around him either. And in the middle of all that, a man like you..."
Kaenerna started to speak, then stopped. Johan and Swetelgr pressed her.
"Finish what you were going to say."
"What were you about to say? Brave? Bold?"
"Cruel? Savage?"
"...I was going to say, 'a knight greater than Kardirian — of course anyone would be shaken by him'... but never mind."
Kaenerna wasn't oblivious. She knew Johan wasn't just half-imperialist — he positively despised the Emperor.
But Johan didn't get angry. Instead he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
"Was the Emperor such a remarkable knight?"
"Ah... Kardirian II was a clumsy ruler and a vile emperor, but... as a warrior, he was truly exceptional."
Swetelgr nodded as if he understood what she meant.
"He was extraordinary in his youth. Killed several men in tournaments, among other things... Though in my eyes, you're the better of the two."
"I appreciate the flattery."
"It's not flattery. You really are better. My take is that the Emperor still believes he's that valiant young warrior he once was. He thinks if he personally cuts down his opponents on the battlefield, every problem solves itself. Even when the situation calls for nothing of the sort."
Kaenerna nodded at Swetelgr's words. When the Emperor's court mage nodded along, it carried weight.
"He's... overly quick to reach for force."
"Well, either way, befriending Lord Hormaric is a good thing. You really do get along with people remarkably well."
"Tell me about it. It's uncanny..."
Kaenerna was genuinely astonished. However you looked at him, Johan was not a sociable man. He had a certain singular charm, but it wasn't the kind that would win over high-born nobles at speed.
"If you're truly that close, you could marry into it and then kill him — swallow up everything he own—"
"Unless the Duke is an idiot, he wouldn't let that stand. You'd have to wait until the Duke's dead."
"Fair point..."
The two mages traded murderous jokes back and forth. They were joking, with no one else around — but Johan felt a chill run down his spine.
While Johan hired a steward, surveyed the villages, and set about reorganizing them, the mercenaries and tribal warriors were passing the time in thoughtless pleasure.
They'd hauled in a mountain of plunder and bounties, and with a city right nearby, only a fool wouldn't enjoy himself.
But as the revelry began to wear thin, the most impatient among them were the first to seek Johan out and ask: where was the next expedition headed?
"Let's hit the petty kingdoms, sir knight! They're in complete disarray right now! And a few of our own know those lands well..."
"No! Let's raid the cities! Do you know how wealthy the city folk are? We could strip just one city on that southern peninsula and..."
"Plundering ships doesn't look bad either."
"A-are... are you insane? Sail out to sea? Get on a ship?"
The tribal warriors were drunk on Johan's battlefield feats and the spoils that followed them.
I'd follow him anywhere, to the very end!
Granted, a few of them privately thought 'but the sea is maybe a step too far.' Still and all...
But the next expedition would unfold in a direction Johan had never once imagined. An unexpected visitor had come to Umdim.
Bishop Biagione of the Venedo Republic.
"A bishop has come to see me?"
Johan was genuinely flustered for the first time in a long while. A man of bishop's rank held power not merely within the Church hierarchy but in secular affairs as well. There were several who ruled actual territories as prince-bishops.
Of course, that power wasn't what rattled Johan. What rattled him was that a man he should never have had occasion to deal with had come calling.
"He is waiting outside, my lord. Shall I relay your answer quickly..."
"Stall for a bit. Lord Swetelgr — quickly! Any reason you can think of for why he's here!"
"How in the world would I know the mind of a priest?!"
Swetelgr grumbled, incredulous at being pressed so suddenly.
"Hmm. Perhaps he's heard rumors of your piety and come seeking you."
"I doubt that."
"?"
"I know of Bishop Biagione. He's famous."
Saying this, Kaenerna drew a circle with her fingers.
The low-ranking priests who worked the villages directly, helping the common folk, were nearly all deeply devout and frugal men. It was difficult for such men to be greedy even if they tried.
But the higher up the ladder you climbed, the more the greedy ones began to appear.
In a way it was obvious. It wasn't the ones who'd cultivated their faith in monasteries from childhood who rose to high office. To climb to the upper ranks of the Church, you needed bloodline or connections at the very least.
Born to Venedo noble stock and backed by lavish patronage, Biagione was effectively a creature of that city through and through.
"So he's here collecting donations, then?"
Johan had not the slightest intention of donating. If anyone wanted alms, the Duke or Lepiata were right there — why come to him?
"Surely a bishop wouldn't demand tribute from a mere knight..."
Kaenerna, mid-sentence, sensed something off. Johan's attitude was far too indifferent.
Shouldn't the faithful be weeping tears of gratitude the moment a bishop arrived?
Even a bishop with the foulest rumors clinging to him was still a bishop. Ordinary people counted a single meeting — a single handshake — as the glory of a lifetime.
"Not piety, not gold... then all that's left is force, isn't it?"
"Ah. That must be it."
The mages were convinced at once. It did make the most sense. This region was a marketplace where mercenaries were bought and sold in bulk, and the Republic had every reason to be nervous.
Umdim, the city the Duke had just taken, and the lands around it sat directly on the Republic's doorstep — one stumble and they'd be under its shadow.
Of course, the Duke wasn't delusional enough to dream of conquering the Republic itself. Umdim and the Republic were different orders of magnitude entirely.
But chipping away at the Republic's influence nearby? That was more than possible.
"Oh, brother in the faith! To meet you at last!"
The bishop laid the familiarity on thick the instant they met. Thanks to the money rumors swirling around the monastic orders and their priests, he had gotten entirely the wrong idea.
A knight brimming with devotion from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet?
For a knight like this to appear before him amid these times, in this very situation — it felt like an opportunity handed down by the Lord Himself.