A War Already Won

"Yes. That doesn't trouble me."

Marco truly did not seem troubled in the slightest. The honor of a knight had buried a great many guilty consciences — even one that pitted him against his own father's house.

The Marquis is probably another matter entirely...

Johan looked at Marco with something close to pity. From the time they'd spent together, he had come to understand that Marquis Crucho did not particularly care for his son.

No — to put it precisely, he didn't care about him at all.

Being a bastard without inheritance rights didn't necessarily mean having nothing. Bastards who were loved by their parents often managed to secure something for themselves. Their circumstances were different, but look at Stepan — wasn't that exactly his case?

Yet Marco had received no word from the Algato family, nor from the house of Marquis ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Crucho either. It meant no one intended to pay his ransom.

Would Marquis Crucho be pleased to see an abandoned son take up arms against him in the name of knightly honor?

Far more likely, he would be furious.

"Still, sir. The Marquis is a great commander. Were you to meet him on the field of battle, even you could not promise victory. You would do well to be cautious."

Marco's face still held its reverence for Marquis Crucho, and Johan clicked his tongue before answering.

"Isn't the Marquis in the Empire right now? He's got his hands full with the west and the south as it is."

"He could sail down by sea, could he not?"

"Well. I suppose he could."

At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Johan's easy concession, Marco faltered.

"Are you quite all right with that?"

"Hm. I expect so."

From Marco's standpoint, Johan was incomprehensible. To him, war meant riding out with a dozen-odd knights and the dozens of servants who followed them, hurling his valor at whatever enemies stood before his eyes.

Knights worshipped battle itself; they made no effort to read the political currents that surrounded a war. No — the very thought that they should never crossed their minds.

So of course Johan's attitude made no sense to him.

But Johan was different. While the Order's envoy traveled to the County of Culia, Johan had thrown everything he had into preparation.

He sent men to the Kettana Merchant Guild, where the sous-merchants issued him letters of license and paid him coin — coin he immediately turned around and spent on supplies to stockpile. Meanwhile he mobilized every connection he could reach, working to thread together a full picture of the situation around the peninsula.

The fog of war lifts the more preparation one piles upon it.

Weaving together intelligence gathered from dukes and counts, priests and merchants, moneylenders and men of every other stripe, Johan had arrived at a certain conviction.

Worth doing. More than worth it.

The people of the County of Culia were off their guard, and the imperial nobles to their southwest hadn't managed to get an accurate read on the situation either.

Strike like lightning, and finish it.

Johan's very first order was to split the mercenary captains into two groups and send them elsewhere.

To the fiefs of the imperial nobles southwest of the County of Culia.

One from the north, one from the east. Pillage as you please!

The mercenary captains asked, bewildered.

"Wasn't the Order's order to seize the County of Culia?"

"It was. But if we simply go and take the county as planned, doesn't that leave your share rather thin?"

At Johan's words, the captains hesitated. He wasn't wrong. They'd received nearly a year's wages in advance from the Order's vast coffers, but mercenary work had always drawn a substantial portion of its profits from what could be harvested on-site.

That said, mercenaries didn't plunder indiscriminately. They minded their employers' eyes, and if there was a chance of being hired by that same employer again, they sometimes held themselves back.

Right now they were descending under the Order's commission. They couldn't go looting as they pleased.

"If we leave, you'll have to take the county with barely two thousand men, sir..."

"I'm confident enough. The Lord watches over me."

Well, it does sound like nonsense when you put it that way.

Coming from anyone else it would have been empty bluster, but that young knight's track record lent even such words a ring of plausibility.

"If I can't look after the men under me — under my own knights — it would be an embarrassment, wouldn't it? I'll take responsibility. One of you comes down from the north; the other loops around and enters from the east."

"...!"

Frankly, the mercenary captains had no choice but to be tempted. Even the grumbling, malcontent among them swallowed hard.

The bitter sting of losing the supreme command position melted away like snow in the sun!

"...Th-thank you, sir."

"If you say so, we shall follow your orders."

These captains had been paid, but that didn't mean they obeyed orders to the letter. They could refuse unreasonable ones.

This order, however, gave them no reason to refuse.

When you're told to descend upon a land flowing with milk and honey and plunder to your heart's content, what lunatic says no?

Hooked, line, and sinker.

Gurerick, watching from the side, shook his head. The more he observed, the clearer it became: this young knight's true gift was not his strength.

It was a master's hand at working people. Those who let their guard down at that youthful face were reeled in before they knew it.

"Will you truly be all right?"

"What part worries you?"

"Taking the county with some two thousand men... The county's own forces are nothing to speak of, of course, but once their vassal knights begin flocking in, things could grow tiresome. And you'd have to take every one of their castles, great and small..."

"Ah. There's a misunderstanding somewhere."

"?"

"We'll speak of that later. Those captains follow my orders, but they don't feel any loyalty to me, do they. I considered using them as arrow fodder, but that would only gut morale. They're not men to be taken that lightly."

"But isn't that exactly how one is supposed to use mercenaries?"

Discipline that fell far short of orderly, loyalty that might turn on a coin's toss, morale that wavered at a breath — wasn't accounting for all of that the whole point of hiring mercenaries?

"When I have loyal men available, I see no reason to reach for that sort."

A thousand men under Johan's direct command, and a thousand dwarf mercenaries. If he wanted more bodies, there were the trailing servants, the sous-merchant caravan, or conscripts from the nearby villages — as many as he liked.

"Understood. Honestly, I do find myself believing that if it's you, sir, two thousand men would suffice to take the entire county."

"Spare me the flattery."

Gurerick meant it sincerely; Johan laughed it off.

"But I don't understand sending the mercenaries southwest to attack before the county has even been taken. I know the captains had their complaints, but..."

"How would you have done it?"

"I'd have hunted down the bandit company in the forest first."

They'd once defeated a force sent against them, and their infamy ran deep — the justification would have been airtight. Destroying them would have satisfied the captains, more or less.

"No. Hunting them down would be a mistake."

"With ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a force of six thousand at your disposal, calling it a mistake is frankly absurd..."

"It struck me as odd, so I looked into it — turns out the nearby villages had been aiding the bandit company. They'd won the people's hearts properly. A forest that size, with the villagers behind them — the losses would only mount. The brothers are already poisoned with grief and rage over their dead kin, remember. So I dropped the matter."

"!"

So that was why Johan hadn't spared the bandits so much as a glance...!

Gurerick was stunned. Had Johan already finished all the calculations in that span of time?

"And purging them is that lord's duty, not mine. Even if I managed it, those captains would find something to whine about the moment circumstances changed."

"That much is true, but..."

Wasn't that just an unavoidable fact of nature?

"The southwestern nobles might rage, or question our intentions and muster their soldiers. The Empire might send reinforcements... And above all, wouldn't the Order be furious?"

"Why?"

"I— because you're not taking the county, sir. You're off attacking somewhere else entirely..."

"I don't think so. Think it through. If mercenaries split off on their own and start raiding other fiefs, what will people believe? That I ordered it — or that they acted on their own?"

"...!"

Guerick felt a chill run down his spine. Johan was right. Neither the nobles nor the Order would believe Johan had given such an order.

Greedy mercenaries with a grievance about their pay running wild on their own initiative was hardly a shocking tale.

"Did... did you plan all of... this... from the start?"

"Nothing so elaborate as all that. Keeping them around would've been nothing but a headache, so I sent them off — if nothing else, to draw some eyes in another direction."

With the mercenaries gone, Johan's supply line ran smoother, his advance moved faster, and the calculation balanced out with only loyal men left under his banner.

And on top of that, he could throw the enemy into confusion. Even if someone suspected that the Order's true intent was conquest rather than judgment, they couldn't strip troops away when thousands were pouring into their fiefs.

They would curse the madness-gripped mercenaries and spend every last ounce of their strength fighting them.

"That's why I sent them. Convinced now?"

"Yes..."

"Then back to what we were saying — you mentioned having to take every castle in the county, great and small?"

"Isn't that so?"

The Order had declared its anathema and Johan had pressed for punishment, so by now the Count of Culia — no, the count pro tem — would be busily summoning his vassals.

But this time the circumstances were different. The enemy's numbers were simply too vast; rather than gather together for no reason, each was more likely to hole up in his own fief and fend for himself.

Leave them be and march on, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and he would be harried and hammered from behind without end.

"We ignore them and march straight into the county."

"That's — that's dangerous! We could be attacked from behind..."

"No. The Order's anathema is our justification, and the Asada family's useless little brothers will hold them back. The count pro tem is out there persuading vassal after vassal that his lord is a criminal."

It was a war of meticulous, surgical calculation.

It verged on vertigo — the war seemed to have ended before it had even begun. To Gurerick, the young knight before him felt like a monster wearing a man's skin.

"Two or three houses may come out to meet us, but we have the eastern warriors besides. If they want to wage guerrilla war, they're welcome to try."

"I imagine you've already prepared for this, but may I ask one more thing? If the siege drags on, they may switch sides, and then our supply lines become a problem..."

"Which is why we advance along the eastern coast. The Republic's fleet will give us support."

"...I pledge you my loyalty. My thanks for the enlightenment!"

"You're a clumsy flatterer, aren't you."

Johan called it flattery, but Gurerick meant every word. Who knew how many eyes the man had opened in so short a span of time?

Johan kept his word. The moment the mercenaries split off, he marched east, then began a mad, headlong advance down the coast.

The count's vassals, frozen stiff with dread, were thrown into confusion by Johan's host passing through without a single raid and without a single battle.

Johan sent envoys ahead, heralding beneath his proud, sacred banner.

"My prediction was wrong."

Johan murmured, unruffled.

"Not a single one came out."

"His lordship chose his vassals poorly, wouldn't you say, sir?"

Not one house among the vassals had sallied forth from its fief to challenge him. He had scattered scouts half expecting at least one or two fools, and the waste of it was almost embarrassing.

Some fiefs even sent bribes — their earnest plea being: take this, and leave our village untouched.

However binding the contract between lord and vassal was supposed to be, this was... Johan found himself blushing on their behalf.

Two weeks.

That was how long it took, from Johan's declaration of punishment to his arrival before Cari Castle, the county's principal seat.

Truly, the speed of lightning.

By the time the anathema had been declared and the Order's envoy arrived to open negotiations, Johan's host was already visible in the far distance.

Naturally, the county had been turned on its head.

"What have the men who swore their fealty been doing all this while?"

"Sister-in-law. This is the will of the vassals."

"Call me 'Count pro tem' one more time, and I will cut you down according to the law. Consider yourself warned!"

Izelia leveled her sword, her long golden hair whipping about her. The sight of a towering giant brandishing a blade crushed the very air around her, and the Asada brothers — who knew exactly how good her swordsmanship was — shut their mouths at once.

"Bring me my armor. I will go out and fight myself!"

"You cannot, Count p—... no, Count pro tem!"

Izelia's household knights cried out in horror and rushed to restrain her. The soldiers holding the castle did not even number two hundred.

With the garrison barely enough to hold the walls, if the count pro tem marched out to fight, she would fall on the spot.

"We must attempt negotiations and buy time."

"No! We must surrender. Do you not see their host? The man who leads them is the famous Sir Johan himself! He tore a troll's head clean off its neck — how are we supposed to stand against that?"

At the brothers' words, the household knights wore expressions of sheer disbelief. There was nothing those greedy wretches wouldn't say with those flapping mouths.

And they called that an argument?