Whip and Carrot
"Might you tell me about some other subjects as well?"
"Hmm. I'll decide once I hear them."
"There's so much I'm being taught right now. Archery and astronomy and theology are no fun at all..."
The education required of nobles was broad and exhaustive. Theology, medicine, law, and history, of course, but also music, poetics, and more besides.
That said, as anyone could see just by looking at Stephan, not every noble actually mastered it all.
Those raised to rule a domain studied what a lord needed first; those raised as knights studied what a knight needed first; and failing both, they simply leaned on whatever they happened to like.
In that respect, Amien was being made to study rather rigorously. No doubt other subjects besides.
"If you don't wish to learn archery or astronomy, you may drop them. But theology you must study."
"But you said, Master, that..."
Johan had started to say, 'Learn theology, and later even if you go around killing people, the priests will take your side,' but stopped himself.
The boy was still young. He needed to be handled with a bit more subtlety.
"To know that God loves you, you must study theology. Otherwise it's all too easy to forget."
At Johan's words, the priest turned his head away to hide tears of emotion.
He'd only tagged along on the hunt without any particular thought, and here he was hearing something so moving!
Stubborn as he was, surely Amien would listen to God's word a good deal more diligently after a statement like that.
Having wielded the whip, Johan now tossed out the carrot.
"That said, if you'd rather not learn archery or astronomy, it's fine to skip them. I'll speak to Izellia on your behalf."
Amien was still, after all, a child. Delighted that a subject or two had been struck off, he nodded eagerly, again and again.
"Is archery that boring to you?"
"Yes. You draw, you loose, over and over, the same every time... I don't see what's fun about it."
"Is that so? Come sit in front, then. Aclada! Marco! Our Amien here is curious about what makes the bow so remarkable. Can you show him?"
At Johan's words, the two looked at each other. A strange current crackled between them. Both of them, it seemed, had confidence in their archery.
"I have been waiting for such an order, Sir. Give the signal."
"...I have no intention of losing either, my lord."
The instant the signal was given, both snatched up their bows and aimed at the sky. The heavens were, after all, the finest stage for showing off one's skill.
As arrows flew in quick succession and birds dropped from the air, Amien's eyes sparkled.
"I believe I have taken more, my lord."
"You seem to have missed that I brought down two birds with a single arrow."
"...!"
"Sir! What is your judgment? Which of us is the superior archer?"
"I never asked you two to compete."
"......"
"......"
"Well done either way. Give both of them a reward."
"No—forget the reward, just tell us which of us was better..."
Aclada clung to it shamelessly, unwilling to let go. Euclia dragged him off by the arm from behind.
"Well? Still no interest?"
"N-no. I want to try shooting too!"
"There you go. Try it yourself and your thinking changes. Astronomy will be the same way."
Johan coaxed Amien along with practiced ease. Watching him, even Izellia found herself impressed despite her better judgment. He was far more seasoned at this than she was.
Her whole repertoire was scolding the child when he wouldn't listen...
More disquieting still was the fact that Johan was taking care of Amien far better than expected. If he meant to dispose of the boy on the hunting grounds, or in some hidden place no one would ever find, there would have been no reason for all this theater.
Then was he truly looking after him?
"My lord."
The soldiers who had gone to retrieve the felled birds seemed to have found something on the way back. Among them stood a trembling, terrified little urchin, a rabbit hanging from his hand.
"What's this?"
"He was hunting in the forest, so we brought him in."
Hunting in the lord's forest without permission was strictly forbidden. Even touching something as small as a rabbit, if you were caught, earned you a harsh punishment.
"You caught a rabbit? What did you catch it with?"
"......"
"He asked you what you caught it with! Are you deaf as well as a poacher?"
When the frightened child couldn't produce a word, a soldier roared at him. Johan stretched out a hand to stop him.
"Enough. Don't work yourself up over nothing."
"My apologies."
"A st-stone... I threw stones..."
"You caught it with thrown stones? Decent skill, that."
Johan ordered the rabbit handed back to the trembling child.
"You're not punishing him, my lord?"
"What good would flogging or hanging a man do over one rabbit? And the skill's respectable, which speaks in his favor. Go home."
"Thank you! Thank you, my lord!"
The boy, snatched back from death itself, bowed again and again before scurrying away. Everyone around praised Johan's mercy without end.
Frankly, Johan felt rather as though he were being fed gold-wrapped filth. He'd merely forgiven a boy for hunting one rabbit, and here came the hymns of praise—loudly encouraging his worst instincts.
'So this is what it's like when other bastards live exactly as they please...'
Even if Johan set his mind to genuine tyranny, he'd still rank as positively benevolent compared to the other lords here.
With the hunt more or less wrapped up, Kaenerna sidled her horse alongside Izellia's on the ride home. Izellia regarded the mage with eyes full of wariness.
Even leaving aside her position in Johan's forces, Kaenerna was a mage whose air of unreadable, unsettling charm made her inherently suspicious.
"Have you given the matter any thought?"
"...What matter would that be?"
"A mage's flaw is that she cannot simply stand by and watch fools be fools. I've come to offer you some advice. No need to be on guard—just open those ears."
Kaenerna said it smiling, but Izellia only seemed to grow more guarded.
Still, this was an advisor under Johan. She could hardly refuse to listen.
"...I'll hear you out."
"What do you think the knight of House Yeats wants from you? Surely you haven't entertained some absurd notion about him being smitten with your looks."
Izellia flushed scarlet at Kaenerna's words.
Even she knew, at least in general terms, what the elven standard of beauty was. One had to be reasonably tall, and slender of frame—the exact opposite of her.
"I-I know that much, at least. He needs a reliable partner to govern the county, doesn't he?"
"Yes. And he promised you safety in exchange for your cooperation. You seem anxious, so I'll tell you something: that promise will be kept."
"!"
"You were trembling like a little bird. I can't claim to be unfamiliar with that feeling. Of course you're frightened. But think about it calmly. Does that knight look like the sort who'd break an oath? Has he ever done anything to suggest it?"
There was real force to Kaenerna's words. Setting aside that deep, instinctive dread, Johan behaved with scrupulous, flawless honor.
Hearing exactly what she had wanted to hear, Izellia let a relieved, almost happy expression slip onto her face unawares.
"Of course, that's only true so long as you cooperate properly."
"...I-I am cooperating properly. I harbor no disloyal thoughts of any kind."
Kaenerna snorted.
"That isn't cooperation. Is carving a wooden doll and seating it beside him what you'd call cooperation? If you come out to a hunt, cling to his side and put on a show for the others. Same at the castle. You have to attach yourself in front of the servants and let the gossip spread. If you hide terrified in a corner like this, what stories will they tell in your place instead? If you want the other party to keep his promises, don't make him angry. Countess-Regent. Everyone's patience has a limit."
Izellia's face went bone-white at Kaenerna's words.
"Do you know why the Emperor once tried to put a necklace on his lover?"
"...Because she committed treason, I take it?"
"No. Because she couldn't give him what he wanted. Would he ever have dared try to necklace her if he'd still been in love?"
Kaenerna gave Izellia's head a couple of light pats.
"If you want to live, learn to think. If you intend to plead that it's beyond you because you're a knight, you may as well lie down and die."
With that, Kaenerna spurred her horse and galloped off ahead. Swaetlg, looking curious, asked:
"What on earth did you say to her?"
"A few words of wise counsel. I'm too lenient, I think."
"...You're not teaching her curses or any of your strange secret arts, are you? There's already ill rumor spreading about you as it is."
Swaetlg's words were true. The main source of the bad rumors was the priests.
Their hearts shattered by Johan, the priests had torn into Izellia in their fury.
By their accounts, Izellia was descended from succubi, able to bewitch a person with a single glance.
Of course, unlike Swaetlg's fears, such rumors carried little real weight.
She might have been a stranger newly arrived, but Izellia had held her position in the domain for a good long while. The people knew more or less what sort of noble she was.
And priests were, by nature, prone to making a great fuss over exactly this sort of thing.
They were the sort to flap about in a panic insisting that mutual lust on a Saturday or Sunday constituted the sin of carnal indulgence. The people had long since learned to take a priest's words with a pinch of salt.
And so the rumor flowed along a very different course.
"So the two of them fell in love at first sight, then?"
"So I hear."
"No, but... why?"
"Shh. Where's your reverence? Do you want to hang from the gallows?"
"N-no, of course not. Still... the Countess-Regent must have talents we didn't know of."
"Every sword must have its scabbard, no?"
No one could quite explain why, but then, love was the sort of thing that defied explanation once it struck...
So the Countess-Regent had hidden talents after all!
The Church sent a letter of considerable length. It was filled with much the same sentiment the priests had been nursing: they could hardly bring themselves to refuse, but wished he would think it over one more time...
One might have mistaken the bishops for his jilted former lovers.
Johan smirked and set it aside. The Church's reaction was exactly as he'd predicted.
Once the preparations were complete, the ceremony proceeded in the blink of an eye. The priests, swallowing their tears, posted a proclamation before the temple, and the surrounding people set about readying a festival for the marriage.
Weddings of this rank usually meant sharp negotiations over rights and property, but this time there was none. Everything, in effect, was passing into Johan's hands.
The marriage itself was concluded within the temple with a bishop's blessing. It was concluded, with a reason for that qualifier. As a lord, marrying meant that the real work came after.
A feast had to be laid on for all who had gathered, and his vassals duly commended.
"Make a record of everyone who failed to show."
The domain was his now, and it was time to squeeze the vassals who had sat quietly on their hands through the whole campaign.
Money for the wedding festivities, money for the army...
The best ones in times like these were the tactful ones. The men who sat still, oblivious to the fact that their pretext was piling up nicely.
"My lord, my lord. That's quite enough now—you must go and be joined before God."
"Dressing it up in fancy language doesn't make it sound any less bizarre."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
The finale of this particular custom was the consummation, performed while the priests and attendants waited outside. Only then was the marriage fully sealed.
...From Johan's perspective it felt suspiciously like 'proving my sexual function on command,' but there was nothing to be done. Customs were best kept where keeping them was possible.
"You seem to be tensing up far too much. You ought to relax your body a little."
"I-I am relaxing. My lord."
"Still rigid as a board. If you don't loosen up further, it will hurt."
Izellia nodded and took breath after breath. Johan waited, then clicked his tongue.
"Forget it. I'll do the loosening myself. Hold still."
"W-wait... wait... just a moment... wait, please, my lord! Just a moment!!"
Before long, screams began ringing out from within, mingled with sobs worn raw by pleasure. Only one voice could be heard. The priests from the Church ground their teeth and muttered darkly among themselves.
"That lecherous, baseborn demon-spawn..."
"Shh. Quiet, please. Have some reverence."
"Congratulations, Your Excellency!"
The Republican delegation greeted Johan with beaming faces. They had been magnanimous with their wedding gifts—a perfectly sensible investment, given the relationship they hoped to build with him.
It amounted to gaining a stalwart ally in the southern peninsula. What could be more gratifying?
"Is the declaration for the Empire ready?"
"Being drafted now."
In his capacity as Count of Culia, Johan intended to send a declaration to the Emperor.
It was stuffed to the brim with polished diplomatic rhetoric, but stripped to its essence it read very close to 'go to hell.' It was, after all, an announcement that he would renounce his vassalage.
"We have bad news and good news. Which would you hear first?"
"The bad news first."
"Marquis Crucho has crossed the sea and landed in his own domain."
"!"
Johan's face hardened. To come back with the Empire in such a state. Had the mercenaries' plundering unsettled him that badly?
"How large a force?"
"Estimated at three to four thousand. Five hundred cavalry and no fewer than a thousand heavy infantry, by the reports."
"I see. And the good news?"
"Marquis Crucho suffered a catastrophic defeat the moment he made landfall. They say he barely escaped with his life."
"...Beaten by whom, exactly?"