Terms of the Pagans
It was a laughable notion for pirates to send envoys, but at this scale, the assembled raiders were honestly too large to call a mere band of brigands. A few seemed to be nobles of pagan origin as well, so there was nothing strange about them sending an envoy.
"A knight of Count Yeats, I see?"
The pirate envoys, having spotted Johan, spoke in the imperial tongue with a peculiar accent. That they could manage the language at all was only to be expected of anyone sent as an envoy.
He was clearly a knight judging by his well-appointed arms, and being young, they concluded he could not be a landholding noble. At those words, Johan's guards bristled.
"How dare these pirates be so insolent—"
"I am not a pirate. I am a noble."
"A plundering rogue, and he calls himself a noble! If you're a noble, then I'm the Emperor himself!"
The mercenaries were infuriated by the sheer gall of it, but the man across from them was speaking in earnest. The pagan pirates did not consider themselves criminals. To them, it was righteous warfare.
"What's wrong with attacking an enemy's lands and taking spoils? Don't you lot do the same?"
"W—we do it with permission..."
"And what if you're refused? Enough. Cease your prattling."
When the mercenaries began losing the war of words, Johan cut them off, finding the whole exchange absurd.
"Yes, I am a knight of Count Yeats."
"Then you must have come to scout. We are envoys of Prince Ahir. As is custom, we request proper reception."
When the pagan pirate spoke of the customs of envoys, the mercenaries looked doubly scandalized. Johan, however, paid it no mind and simply nodded.
"I will escort you to the camp."
Once inside the tent, Johan seated himself at the head without ceremony. The envoys who had followed him in blinked rapidly, then began to stammer.
"C—Count? My lord?"
"That's right."
"But did you not say you were a knight...?"
"They were my knights. I told no lies."
The envoys' faces twisted at Johan's words. It was shame at having failed to recognize him. Coming as an envoy and misjudging the other party's station was a display of one's own incompetence.
"My lord, how young and fair you are."
"And strong, no doubt. Yes. What brings you here?"
"You have received oaths of fealty from the southern lords and destroyed hordes of wicked monsters. Serfs, priests, and nobles alike sing your praises—how could such a thing be anything but magnificent?"
Johan had to fight back a yawn. Unlike other nobles, he felt nothing at all when subjected to such flattery.
To an honorable noble, praise was not merely compliments. It was proof of one's power and very reason for being. Indeed, Izelia listened beside him with a pleased expression, as though the praise were being heaped upon her.
Even from a pagan envoy, renown was renown.
Only after exhausting his tedious litany of compliments did the envoy get to the point. At the unexpected proposal, Johan's expression hardened.
"A truce?"
Strip away all the grand diplomatic rhetoric, and what remained was a request for peace. The pirates wanted to leave this place without fighting Johan's army.
They had failed to capture the Marquis, which stung, but securing their spoils and escaping unharmed mattered more.
In exchange, the pirates promised to hand over more than half of their plunder. Was that not payment enough for sparing them a battle?
Ambiguous.
Hearing the offer, Johan sank into thought.
It was a sweet, tempting proposition. Half of everything the pirates had scraped together, without having to fight for it. Who wouldn't be tempted?
But on closer examination, it was not something to accept so eagerly.
First of all, "half of the plunder" was a vague measure. There was a good chance the pirates had already spirited away a considerable portion.
Granted, even accounting for that, the amount would be staggering—but the pirates wouldn't be taking a loss on the deal either.
"Will you allow me to verify the plunder?"
"Send men whenever you wish."
The envoy's confident answer convinced Johan. The truly valuable treasures had almost certainly been moved elsewhere.
"Even if I give my word, trust between us will be hard to come by."
"Who would dare doubt your honor, my lord?"
Naturally, the envoys were not staking their lives on Johan's honor alone. Their plan was to deliver half the promised treasure first, then hand over the remainder once the pirates had crossed the river safely.
As surety for that promise, the pirates offered hostages. Honorable pagan knights volunteered themselves—and to Johan's mind, it meant nothing at all.
After all, there was no way to tell whether the pirates had sent true knights, or slaves dressed up for the part.
"Moreover, we will release every noble we have taken prisoner here."
"That much you ought to do regardless."
The envoys flinched at Johan's arrogance. But there was nothing they could do. The advantage lay with the other side.
"...You speak truly, my lord. We beg you to look upon us with mercy. Grant us but a single act of clemency, and we shall never again raise our heads in insolence—we will live out our days in quiet."
Whatever you say.
"Very well. I need time to decide. Wait."
"Yes. Thank you."
The envoys withdrew. By now, a few sharp-eyed vassals would have noticed that envoys had come. The vassals might even welcome a truce.
The Church won't be much of a problem.
The priests knew nothing of the details, and could be deceived easily enough. He could simply claim the enemy had slipped away in the night. That alone would satisfy them.
But Johan deliberated.
Had he been a mercenary captain hired to hunt pirates, he would have happily shaken their hands and let them go. But Johan was a Count.
How could he bring this situation to an even more perfect end?
His vassals, for their part, were eager to seize the Marquis Crucho for good. Until he was dealt with, none of them would sleep soundly.
"The pirates... isn't this truly a fine turn of events??"
"And how do we know they'll hand over the treasure properly?"
"Think, man. They offered this out of fear—do you imagine they'd risk an outright deception? Of course they'll skim some off the top, but they'll still surrender plenty of gold. Is that not enough for you?"
Johan summoned a handful of his most loyal vassals to hear their counsel. Some lamented the battle they wouldn't get to fight, but none disliked the proposal.
"What does Your Excellency lack that you must entertain the offer of those rogues? Dismiss them and give battle!"
"Don't talk nonsense. Marquis Crucho is still out there—must we really waste our strength on a pirate rabble? Our forces are stretched thin as it is."
"He speaks true. If the pirates know their place and slink away, there's no need to sweep them from the field."
"And besides, it's strange, isn't it? Prince Ahir is of the Mulque family—so he's the one who sent the envoy? Not a noble of the Zillid Earldom?"
"What do you mean?"
Johan looked askance at Baron Ginovansi.
"As you know, my lord, the Zillid Earldom lies just to our south."
The islands off the peninsula's southwest belonged to the Zillid Earldom. A place pirates could hardly help but love.
"Traditionally, the leader of these pirate hosts has been a noble of Zillid blood. For Prince Ahir to send the envoy is most unusual."
Who lent their name to an embassy was, surprisingly, a matter of real importance. Where there was a single supreme commander like Johan, it mattered less—but among pirates, who had flocked together in disorderly fashion, it mattered all the more.
Whoever sent the envoy determined whose face and honor rode on the outcome.
And yet a noble of the Mulque family, from so far away, had taken charge. It was a curious thing.
"Interesting. Go on."
At Johan's words, every vassal in the tent turned to look at the old baron. Caught by the sudden attention, the Baron flustered.
Among the vassals present, the Baron's influence was in truth not so very great. When several sent him glances laced with jealousy, his heart shrank.
"H—has this old baron misspoken?"
"No, Baron. The tale intrigued me, so I asked you to continue. What happened then?"
"D—don't the nobles of the Zillid Earldom... not exist?"
"No. I confirmed it—the noble houses of Zillid are still there."
Having noted the banners of the noble families himself, Johan had compared the information the moment he returned. They had indeed been the minor houses of the Zillid Earldom.
"Then did the nobles of Zillid yield... out of respect for the Mulque family's renown?"
"Yield... yes, yield."
Baron Ginovansi felt something was off even as he said it—but Johan, listening, arrived at a different thought entirely.
"Good. Baron, you've given me an excellent idea."
"...?"
When the envoy of Count Yeats arrived, the pirates breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Count, it seemed, was willing to negotiate after all.
"I have come to deliver the will of Count Yeats. Where are the nobles of House Nusad?"
"House Nusad? Not Prince Ahir?"
Those who had come to receive the delegation were thrown into confusion. The Count's envoy was asking after an entirely different family. House Nusad was one of Zillid's powerful houses, but command of this expedition had fallen to Prince Ahir.
"There seems to have been a misunderstanding. We will escort you to Prince Ahir."
"You would have us defy the Count's command? Absurd. If you do not take us to House Nusad, we are leaving."
The envoys cried out stiffly, their reluctance plain to see.
Filthy and underhanded as it was, they could not simply be sent away. The pirates hastily reported upward. The nobles, likewise flustered and arguing, finally settled on having a knight of House Nusad receive the envoys—after all, judging by blood alone, a Nusad knight was amply qualified to do so.
The envoys, once received, merely recited the usual formalities. Johan had sent them to exchange courtesies and nothing more, so there was little to be said.
Greetings exchanged. The Count's regards, duly received. They had come to inspect the plunder. A decision would follow in a few days' time...
Even so, the pirates were thoroughly satisfied. That the other side had engaged at all was a victory in itself.
"Prince Ahir! Your stratagem has borne fruit. The Count appears willing to treat."
"Stratagem, bah. When a single bridge is all it takes, and they're offering that much gold—what fool would refuse?"
One of the leaders grumbled.
It had been Ahir who proposed the negotiation. His argument had been that they must escape while terms were still possible, before they were encircled front and rear.
The pirates had agreed—but that didn't mean the gold sat easy with any of them. To hand over such a fortune to the enemy...
"We settled all this already! Do you mean to renege now, of all times?"
"What did I call it? I merely said it was no stratagem at all. Any fool could have made that offer. A true stratagem would have cracked that stout castle, wouldn't you say?"
Having failed to take the main castle, a quiet resentment had been brewing among the pirates. And that resentment had nowhere to go but toward the supreme commander.
"If the envoy has come, why is House Nusad receiving them instead of Prince Ahir?"
"The Count's envoy insists—what would you have us do? Is it our fault House Nusad's name has spread even among the heathens?"
Grievances like these needed only the smallest spark to catch fire.
Hmm.
Johan stared at Izelia over their chessboard. She looked at him, puzzled.
"What is it?"
"I was just thinking the real thing beats the fake."
"...M—my fake exists?!"
At Izelia's words, Johan nodded. He told her of the apparition he had witnessed while rooting out the pagan temple.
"Well, it was an illusion made in your image, so I suppose you wouldn't have been fooled by it. Hardly charming, I imagine."
"No. It was nothing compared to you, which is why I dismissed it."
Izelia's face turned scarlet, and she dropped her gaze. Then she played a terrible move. Johan promptly took her knight with his own, called checkmate.
"Checkmate."
"F—foul play. Such a dastardly gambit."
"I didn't gamble anything?"
"...May I ask precisely how it differed?"
Izelia ventured the question sidelong. It was one she would never have asked before.
"Well, it was far more undressed, for one..."
"......"
"And its expression was like someone deep in drink... shall I stop there?"
"Y—you may stop. Please."
Izelia could bear the embarrassment no longer. She changed the subject.
"May I ask why you keep the envoys waiting?"
"From what I heard, the pirates aren't quite so united as they'd like to appear. So it seemed better to wait. If they feel pressed, they'll offer better terms, won't they?"
The more they distrusted and quarreled with one another, the more anxious they would grow—and the sweeter the terms they would bring. That was Johan's thinking.
"My lord! My lord!"
"What is it? Have they already sent new envoys?"
"The pirates have gone mad!"
"?!"