The Viscount Falls
"Take up arms! We avenge our Count's wound!"
"Calm yourselves! No order has been given yet!"
"Stand aside, or I'll hang you from the nearest tree!"
The centurions under Johan's command tried their best to quell the fury, but rage once ignited was not so easily smothered. When it became clear that continuing to block the mob would see them hanged first, the centurions promptly stepped aside.
"I—I'm with you!"
"We believed in you, Captain!"
The enraged mercenaries descended upon the viscount's camp and smashed everything within reach. The jousting grounds, prepared at great expense, were torn to splinters, and the seating meant for the nobility went up in flames. The mercenaries showed the viscount's own viewing box no mercy whatsoever — they razed it to the ground and spat upon the ashes.
"What do you think you're doing! Unless you've come to start a war, get back to your camps this instant!"
The viscount's own mercenaries rushed out to restrain them. They knew full well that the men under Johan were savage and skilled, but having taken their silver, they had a duty to perform.
He wouldn't actually spill blood in front of the viscount's castle... would he?
So the viscount's mercenaries told themselves, and drew courage from it. However formidable the enemy might be, having a noble at their backs filled them with remarkable confidence.
"Remember, this is the presence of Lord Ginolene himself—"
But they should have read the room. They should have wondered why none of the other nobles had shown their faces anywhere.
The ones with quicker wits had already scrambled to secure horses and fled into the castle for shelter.
"Gahk—!"
"Where do you dogs get off selling Lord Ginolene's name? Kill them!"
"Did you think you'd get away with such a vile scheme? Bring out Ginolene! I'll hang that man and all his whelps from the gallows!"
The mercenaries who had lacked the sense to keep their mouths shut were skewered on the spot. Even that did little to cool the mob's fury; they swept through the nobles' encampments, smashing whatever they found and looting what remained.
"Let's ask the dwarf mercenaries to help calm things down!"
"Agreed. Fellow mercenaries will surely listen to reason."
The mercenary captains sent word to the camp where the dwarf mercenaries were quartered. The dwarves declined the request.
They were already busy setting the surrounding camps alight themselves.
The dwarves were burning everything to the ground with demonic fire — the very flame Johan had furnished them.
The man who had shot Johan was a nameless knight. There were plenty of witnesses around, and he had made no attempt to hide what he'd done, so he was seized in short order.
The viscount glared at the knight, his face flushed a deep crimson.
What in the world had a single landless knight just done?
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I could not endure the insult to Your Lordship's house, nor the mockery made of the oath sworn to Your Lordship's liege!"
"Silence! Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to flay the skin from your bones! Who put you up to this? Was it Kardirian?"
"No, my lord! I acted purely according to my own honor!"
"Make him shut his mouth! A country bumpkin who wouldn't know honor if it bit him..."
The viscount spat the words like a curse. A man who truly understood honor would never have taken an opportunistic shot like that in the first place.
It would almost have been less absurd if the Emperor himself had ordered it. He would have been nearly as furious, but at least he could have understood.
Instead, this whole catastrophe had been unleashed by some green whelp barely arrived from the hinterlands, drunk on ambition and his own precious honor. It beggared belief. No matter how he turned it over, the viscount found himself half-convinced the Emperor really had been behind it.
"The mercenaries are running wild, my lord. We can't so much as step outside the gates."
"Some of our hired soldiers were attacked, and others have fled."
Once things took this strange turn, the quicker-witted among the hired soldiers had bolted without hesitation. Thankfully a good number had made it inside the castle, but morale was in ruins.
They had ears too, after all — word had spread that someone under the viscount's banner had shot the Count.
Even on a battlefield, even among mercenaries, there were rules. Those who ignored such customary codes were held in contempt or openly scorned.
"...If anyone has a plan, speak it now."
At the viscount's words, his retainers began exchanging wary glances. They found the situation every bit as thorny as he did.
"First we must take that knight and drag him before the Count. An explanation is owed, is it not?"
"And you think that will be the end of it?"
"What do you mean, the end of it? What, would you rather we sit here and do nothing?"
"Handing over the knight won't earn the Count's forgiveness no matter what we do. It's too late for anything to be settled amicably. Let us simply attack!"
"!"
Radical words burst from the lips of the pro-Emperor faction.
"This is our chance! Once the Count falls, the nobles beneath him will start watching their weight again! Strike before he wakes!"
"H-have you taken leave of your senses? If we attack now, what becomes of Your Lordship's honor?"
A knight acting on his own initiative at least left room for excuse — but the moment they exploited the opening to attack, the assault ceased to be the act of a rogue and became, in every eye, an order from the viscount himself.
And who would believe any denial?
"Honor be damned — is this not too fine an opportunity to pass up? Miss it, and it will never come again!"
"You call that speaking? Shut your mouth!"
The viscount's children rounded on the retainer in fury. To care so little for the family's honor, even as part of the Emperor's faction! The retainer flinched, but did not yield.
"My lords, do not persecute me. I sit at this table by legitimate right."
"Let's see you say that after you've been cut down by a sword. Go on, keep talking! Whose honor is it that means nothing here?"
"Th-that's enough. Enough, I said."
The viscount's voice was strange — unlike his usual self. Everyone gathered there turned to stare at him in bewilderment. The viscount was swaying on his feet.
Thud!
He pitched forward and collapsed. He was old to begin with, worn down further by ceaseless toil, and with this catastrophe piled on top, it was little wonder his body had finally given out.
"The lord has collapsed!"
"What? The viscount has collapsed too?"
Johan asked with an expression of pure incredulity. Goidun nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
"He's not copying me, is he?"
"Surely not, my lord."
Giada entered as he spoke. At his gesture, the slaves under his charge carried in bowls of medicinal broth.
"One of the physicians serving the other captains is quite skilled. He's brought a tonic that's good for the body."
"I need nothing. See that Goidun drinks it instead."
"Oh! My deepest thanks, my lord!"
Goidun prostrated himself in gratitude. Medicine prepared by a physician of the Republic was a luxury rarely afforded to men of his station.
While Goidun grimaced his way through the bitter broth, Johan spoke with Giada.
"Your schemes are several times sharper than your cousin's."
"What — beside Bishop Biagione, I am woefully inadequate, my lord."
There was no flattery in Giada's voice. He meant it. Johan was honestly surprised.
Was Bishop Biagione really that capable?
Come to think of it, given how he climbed that greasy ladder, he may well have excelled at other sorts of work.
"Do you know who loosed the arrow?"
"From what I hear, the man was caught. A knight of little name or note. Surely this was the Emperor's doing, no?"
"It was the Emperor."
On this point, the two were in full agreement. The coincidence was simply too convenient.
I never accounted for the Emperor.
From the Emperor's seat, a single arrow could shake the entire board — of course it was a move he'd be tempted to make. Johan silently berated himself.
I thought myself safe because no one could predict this would come to my door. But it didn't need the Emperor's own hand — any of the men beneath him could have given the order.
He'd been wearing his armor, and his senses were keen — those two things alone had saved him. Had he truly taken the hit, things could have turned very dangerous indeed.
"Have the mercenaries calmed down at all?"
"Yes. The moment word spread that it was your order, my lord, every last one of them returned to camp without protest."
It was hard to believe these were the same men who had rampaged like demons. They fell back into line with almost eerie docility.
It was astonishing. Once a band slipped into plunder-mode, order was normally near impossible to restore.
"If this was the Emperor's scheme, fighting serves only his interests. All the more reason I meant to resolve this at the negotiating table... and then the viscount suddenly keels over, and I half wondered if he was imitating me."
"Unless the viscount is a fool, he'd never do such a thing. It's nothing like your collapse, my lord."
Who would pity a man who fainted all on his own? The nobles beneath the viscount might waver, but he himself stood to gain nothing from it.
"With the viscount down, do you think negotiations will still proceed?"
"If anything, his fall will hurry them to the table. His people are desperate now. When they come begging, turn them away a few times, then receive them. That should do nicely."
Johan nodded.
"Pass the word — stay alert for ambushes, just in case."
"Surely no one would dare, my lord?"
"People dare exactly such things. The world is full of madmen, if you look."
Johan said with a smile.
Giada's prediction proved true. Envoys bearing a white flag arrived from the viscount's camp. Only after being turned away several times were they finally permitted inside to deliver their message.
Leading the delegation was the viscount's eldest daughter, Dame Aol-la. She prostrated herself before Johan's tent.
Johan came out to meet them, bandages wound thickly about his body. Refusing to appear at all risked inviting the wrong sort of rumors.
These people...
Johan noticed that several among the delegation looked openly disappointed. Apparently they were deeply sorrowed to learn that he had not, in fact, died.
"A man with no connection to you acted of his own accord?"
The retainers standing nearby snorted at Johan's words. Who was supposed to believe that? Even the man himself, hauled in bound, hadn't been believed when he said it.
"I swear it before God, truly—"
"Well, enough. I believe you."
"!?"
"Isn't that what you were asking for?"
"Er — yes... of course, my lord."
He had taken an arrow and nearly died. He would have been well within his rights to storm the castle or slaughter the entire delegation on the spot. Yet there he stood, perfectly composed, and it left the envoys utterly off-balance.
Terrifying.
They knew the Count before them was a young monster, but to learn he could keep this much composure even after taking an arrow himself — it sent a chill down their spines.
"So. What have you brought me?"
"Two of my brothers will come to you as hostages, and we have increased the sum of reparations..."
The viscount's second and third children, sent as hostages. Johan could feel from that alone just how desperate the other side's situation had become. He nodded and confirmed the terms.
They were precisely the conditions he had wanted. He could squeeze harder if greed dictated, but Johan had no intention of going that far. Gold was gold, but hostages mattered more.
"Any particular discontent brewing inside the walls?"
"...The decision was not theirs to make, so all is well."
"I heard Your Lordship's father collapsed. You must be terribly worried."
"He will recover."
Johan's concern could not have sounded like concern to her ears. Indeed, Aol-la's face was contorted with humiliation and disgrace.
"Have the donation for the Church ready within the week. Once I've received it, I'll be on my way."
"...Yes, my lord."
Johan nodded. Behind her, the rest of the delegation wiped cold sweat from their brows and let out long, shuddering breaths.
The reason they had been so tense, despite arriving with generous terms, was Johan himself. They had been terrified that the wounded Count might simply cut the delegation down where they stood.
Now that the negotiation was over, the tension drained out of their bodies all at once.
"The Count is a remarkable man, truly remarkable. To carry himself like that even after being shot."
"Aren't you praising our invader a bit too lavishly?"
"Am I wrong, though? The man has a magnanimous spirit."
Having narrowly escaped with their lives, the members of the delegation could hardly avoid speaking well of Johan. Even in their eyes, his bearing had been generosity itself.
The viscount had collapsed, and his children had pressed for negotiations — they had simply followed along. Never had they imagined they would walk out alive.
Count Godfrey, who had been accompanying the party, also nodded along.
"To take an arrow and carry himself so steadfastly — a truly admirable knight."
"Come to think of it, your squire was spouting some strange talk, my lord."
"What nonsense has that boy been saying now?"
"He claims a mage named Gianna lent the Count the power of magic — that it's the reason his wound healed so quickly. Gianna... wouldn't that be the mage who came before? I can't fathom what that mage is meant to be doing here."
In fairness, Gianna was being held in custody alongside the other knights until the negotiations concluded — it was only because the talks ran long that things had turned out this way...
But none of the nobles present cared much for such details.
"We'll have a full accounting when we return. Imprisoned or not, hasn't he gone too far? Healing the man's wounds on top of everything!"
"Let it go. It's thanks to that that we made it out alive."
The glowering mercenaries nearby made his spine go cold. The noble nodded hurriedly.
"Well, with the viscount collapsed, it may work out for the best. Finding a mage of real skill is no small task."
"True enough..."