The Groveling Baron and the Corsair's Bargain
Commoners and serfs nursed fantasies about nobility.
Noble blood, blue-blooded and divine from birth! Gathered by the hundreds, serfs would still bow their heads and drop to their knees whenever a noble passed by — an instinct buried deep in the marrow of their bones.
Nobles were of a different root entirely. Nobles were exalted. A noble's touch could heal wounds...
The nobles themselves never bothered to correct such prejudices. Quite the opposite — they inflated them. The peculiar accents only they used, their mannered bearing, the elaborate ceremonies and customs all conspired to make them seem all the more extraordinary.
But even if every soul in the world believed such things, Johan was not fooled. Everything the nobility claimed was, to him, nothing but superstition and baseless drivel.
Like this, you see.
A noble, cornered, could turn every bit as ugly as anyone else. Much like the baron groveling before him right now.
"Get up, Baron."
"S-sniff... hnngh! My lord Count Eitz! I thank you from the depths of my heart for coming to us like this!"
Baron Monrado pressed his lips to Johan's boot and clutched at his hand. Johan's vassals, watching from behind him, wore expressions of quiet satisfaction.
It was true that a lord too capable made life suffocating for his vassals — but a hopelessly incompetent one was worse. Especially on a campaign like this.
The baron's servility confirmed and displayed Johan's power for all to see. Having verified that the master they served was strong, the vassals swelled with contentment.
Instead of entering the keep, Johan pitched camp outside the castle walls and dealt with the baron there. If you wanted to talk comfortably, it helped for the other side to feel a little pressure.
Besides, the baron's small wooden keep could hardly have accommodated all the vassals he had with him.
"Goidun. Speak to the head merchants of the Kettana Merchant Guild and have them distribute some food to the serfs in the vicinity."
"Yes, my lord."
Johan had his slave arrange for surplus provisions to be handed out. Supplies were still plentiful, and more to the point, that food belonged to the guild merchants, not to him.
The merchants would eat the loss while Johan collected the praise.
The merchants would chafe at the injustice, of course, but they could hardly refuse. Merely following the army in its wake was already earning them enormous profits. The head merchants of an army made so much that people said 'a single campaign could make you rich.' It was far better than refusing their lord's request and getting driven out.
"Now then, Baron... the situation around here doesn't look too good, does it."
"The fault is my own foolishness, my lord — for serving as worthless a master as Marquis Crucho."
Baron Monrado was desperate to catch Johan's eye by any means necessary. A dog beastfolk, he wagged his tail and chattered on and on.
The relationship between lord and vassal was not one of absolute loyalty, but closer to a contract of mutual necessity.
From the baron's standpoint, it was the marquis who had failed first — his lands burned while the promised aid never came.
That said, it was rare for a vassal to defect to the opposite side so aggressively as this baron had. Normally, a lord who wasn't a fool would retaliate.
Baron Monrado had staked his life and his title on this. He was clearly desperate and terrified to that degree.
"Understood. So — the pirates who were spotted? What of the surrounding situation?"
Johan listened to the flattery just enough to be polite and focused on assessing the situation. The pirates' numbers were larger than he'd expected. Pooling everyone who had landed, there seemed to be several thousand of them.
They were neither well-trained heavy infantry nor elite troops, but numbers were power in themselves. Worse, the ones who had come ashore in dozens and hundreds, having run out of easy things to plunder, were now banding together to hunt larger prey.
"They're going after the nobles?"
"Yes."
It was true that kidnapping a single well-off noble for ransom yielded far more than raiding a few villages. The only catch was the difficulty of catching said noble.
Nobles usually stayed inside their castles with their soldiers.
But to the pirates, riding high on momentum, such obstacles meant little. Gathering here and there, they had begun assaulting the castles where the nobles holed up. Most attempts failed, but a few succeeded.
"My lord Count! I am truly terrified. Those cruel, vile pirate wretches — what if they come swarming in and drag me and my family away..."
"May I be permitted to speak, my lord?"
The captured pirate leader, Tamir, spoke up. The baron shot him a glare of open displeasure.
"Where does a filthy heathen pirate get off opening his mouth? Save your words for the gallows."
"Baron. Hearing him out can hardly hurt, can it."
"Ah... y-yes..."
"Go ahead, Tamir."
"I've heard it said among the other pirates myself, so I know it to be true. Their target is Marquis Crucho."
"!"
"Wh-what... how would they possibly take Marquis Crucho? Those wretches?"
"How should I know? I'm only telling you what I heard."
With the Emperor spending most of his time within the Empire proper, Marquis Crucho was the de facto leader of the southwestern vassals.
The castle he held was large and strong, and no matter how many soldiers he'd lost, he still commanded far more than any of his vassals. He was not a man the pirates could simply snatch away.
Yet the moment Johan heard it, his instinct told him the words were true.
These were pirates who had already looted everything worth looting in the region. The longer they lingered, the more danger they were in — hostility closed in on them from every direction.
Even taking a small castle cost enormous expenditure. Rather than squander themselves that way, it made far more sense to reach for one grand prize. Capture the marquis, and his ransom would run to hundreds of times the cost.
"In that case, the pirates who fled at the sight of my army have most likely gone over there to join them."
They had panicked at the sight of an army numbering in the thousands, so they would have hurried to attach themselves to the larger force by any means.
"Good news, then. Baron. You'll be seeing less of the pirates."
"Th... that would be so."
The baron wavered over whether to believe the heathen's words. If it was true, it was welcome news — but if it was a lie...
"Baron. What is the marquis doing, you said?"
"He's supposedly raising an army in his own domain, but how quickly can that be done?"
The baron's voice carried a bitter edge — resentment at the aid that had never come.
By the look of it, he must be conscripting serfs as well.
Nobles disliked sending their serfs to fight. Every serf was their own property. But with thousands of pirates descending on the domain, there was no choice but to fight back somehow.
Good for me — the only question is how I intervene.
He was tempted to leave the wretch to his fate, but if the pirates stripped the land bare before moving on, the domain would be ruined completely — a sorry prospect for Johan, who had his eye on that very land. Even if he ate it, there'd be nothing left to pick.
So: sit back comfortably and wait, or intervene somehow?
Whatever conflicted look Johan wore was evidently read in a different light by the baron. Sensing that Johan might leave soon, the baron grew frantic.
"Your soldiers must be worn out — please rest here a while before going."
"We've prepared wine for the knights..."
"Do you see that elf maidservant over there? She's a daughter from my kin's line. Quite beautiful, is she not? If you wish it, please take her for yourself."
"Baron. There's no need to be quite so desperate."
Johan cut him off. It felt necessary to sort this out somehow.
"What is it you fear right now, Baron? The pirates and the monsters, is it?"
"...Yes..."
"You need not fear the pirates. I brought soldiers — the sharp ones will flee, and the witless ones will be dealt with. Of course, you're asking yourself: what happens after I leave, and other pirates come from another region? Send word to the other vassals. Tell them the marquis has brought all manner of treasures back from the Empire."
"P-pardon?"
"Spread the rumor to every place you can reach. And pass this along quietly as well: those who do not come here to swear fealty may find themselves at the top of my own list for punitive suppression."
"...!"
Word of Johan's own army would soon be circulating as well. Frightened pirates were bound to bunch together. Add the rumor of the marquis's treasures on top of that, and in practice the pirates would all converge on a single point.
That much was enough.
While the marquis dealt with the pirates, Johan intended to bring the other vassals under his control. Desperate men like this baron would not be few, and with carrot and stick, making them swear loyalty would be simple.
Of course, Johan had no intention of actually attacking the lords here without any pretext...
It was enough that the lords imagined it and grew afraid.
"I'll be staying here until things are settled. How many vassals come will tell me what you're worth, Baron."
"I... I will do my utmost, my lord!"
"The monsters are the problem."
Johan murmured, running his hand over Ezellia's skin. The desperate baron had mobilized every connection and favor he possessed to summon the marquis's vassals from nearby.
Those vassals had no wish to be beaten by the pirates and then clobbered again by Johan. They came, knelt, and performed the vassalage rites.
According to reports from the scouts he'd sent out, the pirates were hurrying away as well. Most seemed to be heading toward the marquisate.
Things were unfolding neatly according to plan. But Johan wanted the monsters dealt with decisively. Preferably right in front of the marquis's watching vassals.
After all, nothing made a more striking declaration than stepping in to sweep away the monsters when a marquis failed in his duty!
It would be convenient if they came this way.
"...My lord. Why are you stroking that spot?"
"Your muscles have knotted up. Loosening them for you."
"Ah. Is that so? Forgive me for the misunderstanding."
Ezellia's guard was slowly melting away. They had joined their bodies several times over, and fought shoulder to shoulder besides. She kept trying to collect herself, but the instinctive softening was beyond her control.
"That place... it isn't... where the knots are...?"
"Oh dear. So it wasn't?"
"My lord, you deceived— hnn. Nnh."
Johan pressed a hand over Ezellia's mouth and pushed her down. Her breathing turned ragged. She had been so stiff and guarded once; now she responded quite supplely.
"By the way... my lord."
"?"
"Why did you refuse the baron's maidservant?"
"What, did you want to hold that elf? Saying that right in front of me — bold of you. Usually people don't bring up their sweethearts while they're in each other's arms, you know."
"I-I never said I wanted to hold her!"
Struck by the absurd misunderstanding, Ezellia nearly leapt out of her skin. Taking lovers on the side was a free matter, but she had no taste for such things — and frankly, Johan alone was already more than she could handle.
Still, going by his conduct, Johan would have been stranger not to take her. His marriage to her was political, and young blood didn't just run hot — it boiled. And the baron's maidservant had been a classic elf beauty besides.
"Why didn't I hold her? Because the moment I do, things with the baron get complicated. I have little desire to watch the man weep with gratitude. Honestly — having to explain all this. Ezellia, I believe I told you to stop swinging your sword and read some books."
"I... I did read them. So that was why..."
"Of course, it helped that you're far more charming. Who would pick up copper coins when there's gold on the ground?"
"You're lying again."
"That's not a lie. Ezellia, you're still clumsy at telling lies from truth. Here — does this feel like a lie?"
Under the heavy weight pressing down on her, Ezellia gasped even as she felt a strange satisfaction welling up from within. It was an emotion she had never once felt before.
"I hear you are searching for the minotaurs."
"Word's spread even among the prisoners?"
When Tamir requested an audience, Johan granted it. Tamir took several deep breaths.
"Why so nervous?"
"Because I fear you, my lord."
"...Honest, aren't you."
"Hiding one's fear is a weak man's posture. The more a warrior accepts it and overcomes it, the stronger he becomes."
"Yes, well, I'll hear about your customs later. Get to what you came to say."
"There is a way to lure out the minotaurs."
"!"
Johan's eyes went wide.
"What way?"
"One of my crew hails from a family of alchemists. It's a secret formula he knows — he says it can draw out minotaurs with certainty."
"What do you want in return?"
"Sell us. As slaves."
Every vassal arriving at the domain spat at the sight of the pirates and heaped abuse on them. The soldiers, naturally, muttered that these were men who'd be executed soon enough.
Pirates were people too; of course they clung to their lives. If there had been any other way they would have tried something, but honestly, there was no answer to be found.
Heathens. Pirates.
Two justifications for summary execution, stacked on top of one another. At this point, being sold as slaves was an act of extraordinary mercy.
"Just you alone?"
"...Myself. And my crew as well..."
Tamir spoke with a certain anxious edge.
There had been another option open to Johan, after all.
He could have declared he would negotiate nothing with heathens and tortured the formula out of his men.
Normally a dishonorable act — but with heathens, it was no sin at all. If the pirates had captured people here, they would have thought exactly the same.
"Clever. Very well. If it works, I'll sell you as slaves."
"!"
At how readily Johan agreed, Tamir was stunned. No curses, no mockery, no humiliation — just outright acceptance?