A Blade Dyed Red
Ghiada had been certain that Vinashitim would resolve the matter through diplomacy. Every power that bordered the Vinashitim Empire's vast, sprawling frontier was either an enemy or a rival. There simply weren't enough soldiers to deal with them all. Diplomacy, moreover, was the Empire's signature craft. Wealthy beyond measure and rich in symbolic prestige, Vinashitim had always excelled at managing and coaxing the powers around it. The deception had been exposed, of course, but the mere fact that they had sent such envoys to Johan meant they regarded him as someone worth talking to. There was no reason to pour oil on that fire and set it alight. They would surely find a way to smooth things over.
"Ghiada. How do I strike you?"
"Your Grace, you are a hero beloved of the gods, born with the heart of a lion and the cunning of a fox."
"...You rehearsed that, did you?"
Johan was taken aback at how such flattery came spilling out within a second of his asking. He collected himself and pressed on.
"I noticed it during the Balkan Kingdom campaign too. Aside from the nobles and priests of the peninsula who have met me face to face, a surprising number of people underestimate me."
It was a world where one could scarcely confirm what had happened even in the neighboring domain. Information traveled narrow, slow, and uncertain, and most of it was rumor.
The former Count of the Balkan Kingdom had dismissed Johan not out of any particular arrogance, but because in his understanding of the world, Johan truly seemed like a nobody.
An upstart knight of no distinguished blood, out of nowhere, sending letters at the head of a band of mercenaries — how was anyone to know whether the man was really the conqueror of the south, or just a lucky mercenary captain?
In Johan's view, Vinashitim was not so very different. Plenty of nobles there would still be doubting his power and his reputation.
"I take your meaning, Your Grace, but they won't be as stupid as the Balkan Kingdom. Vinashitim is not the Balkan Kingdom."
Vinashitim was far larger, far older, and far richer in capable people. Ghiada had no doubt whatsoever that the Empire would render a wise judgment.
"Still, preparations are in order. If it comes to a show of force, where would be best?"
"Well, first we would have to cross the Edene Sea and land..."
Ghiada deliberated with the care of a captain well seasoned in seafaring. Vinashitim was an opponent of an entirely different weight class than the Balkan Kingdom.
Against the Balkan Kingdom, a surprise landing to seize the lord himself had been possible. Against Vinashitim, nothing of the sort was conceivable. The aim of a show of force there would be less about striking and more about luring the Empire to the negotiating table.
All the more reason, then, to plan the expedition carefully.
Someplace realistic enough to actually threaten, lucrative enough to justify occupation, and jarring enough to make even Vinashitim flinch and come to the table.
"The port cities on the western coast of the peninsula would be my recommendation, as ever."
Port cities were always wealthy and luscious prizes. The western ports of Vinashitim had endured stubbornly for generations, squeezed between the barbarian petty kingdoms to the north and the heathen empire to the south.
"I hear Vinashitim's fleet is nothing to sneer at."
"Ah, most of the Vinashitim fleet is stationed in the eastern empire's waters, so you needn't worry on that count, Your Grace."
The Vinashitim fleet in the Edene Sea was negligible. Their main strength lay farther east, deployed around the capital and the island chains nearby — to fight the heathens.
"That said... hmm. I'm somewhat wary of sailing straight in and landing. The sea route is treacherous, and the storms there are frequent. I think we would need to secure a beachhead first. Shall I have my men scout out a suitable island?"
"I'd be grateful if you would. Ah, now that I think of it..."
Johan summoned Hormaric again. He had need of the man's help.
"Lord Hormaric. If my memory serves, you hold several islands in the Edene Sea as your domain. Is that correct?"
"Ah... yes."
Hormaric nodded.
Duke Brudhe had parceled out territories to his children as a test of their abilities. Some had proven themselves brilliantly; Hormaric had not.
"If I end up leading a fleet on this voyage, I would like to make port at one of those islands. Would that be all right?"
"...I-I'm sorry. It is not."
"!"
Johan was less displeased than simply surprised. He hadn't expected Hormaric to refuse.
"Is it the Empire's watchful eye? If it's Vinashitim you're worried about, you may simply tell them I took the islands from you by force."
"That's not it... it's just that..."
Hormaric hesitated, then finally squeezed his eyes shut and said it.
"...They've already been taken from me."
"......"
Johan was left speechless.
Every territory the Duke had distributed to his children was a proving ground. And the small islands scattered across the southern Edene Sea, swarming with heathen pirates and raiders, were the harshest proving grounds of all.
By rights, one would have to hire mercenaries, sail there, fortify into a fortress, and then somehow hold out — and yet with the owner half-abandoning them, it was a miracle the islands had lasted as long as they had.
"So pirates hold them now. You have no thought of retaking them?"
"To retake them, I'd need to hire mercenaries. To hire mercenaries, I'd need gold. And to get gold, I'd have to take on debt, and that's a bit..."
Hormaric's virtue was his realistic judgment. Any other noble would have taken on debt without a second thought, hired mercenaries, and attacked. Hormaric simply gave up.
He truly was born to be a merchant.
"Then it works out rather nicely. If the expedition goes ahead, we shall retake your islands."
"!"
Hormaric was thunderstruck. It was a favor he had never once imagined.
"Thank you, Your Grace! Thank you!"
"Recovering lands from the heathens is the plain duty of anyone who shares our faith, is it not?"
Since things had come to this, Johan decided to secure the islands first. The justification was impeccable — there was no need to look over his shoulder for hunting down pirates.
The envoys sent to Vinashitim had not yet returned, so the official reason for the expedition was the suppression of heathen pirates. The priests of the Order were beside themselves with joy.
"The islands aren't large, and even all together there are only a few hundred of them. No need to mobilize a great force. A single thousand-man unit should suffice."
Johan asked the mercenaries whether any wished to join. Every one of them — even those who had returned from the last expedition only days ago — wanted in.
"With hearts burning in loyalty to Your Grace, we will escort you all the way to hell itself!"
"......"
The eyes of the men shouting it were blazing with something rather less noble: naked greed for gold.
Not one of Johan's expeditions had ever failed, and not one had ever failed to pay. They sensed this pirate hunt would be no different.
"Those recently returned from the last campaign are excluded."
"But—!"
"Centurions, sort out the able ones from the newly recruited mercenaries. And take a full century from the slave soldiers as well."
The veterans grumbled, but Johan's order did not change. Sleek galleys were made ready in the harbor, and the mercenaries threw themselves into expedition preparations with dreams of riches written across their faces.
"......"
"Izelia. You'd like to come al—"
"Of course! My lord! ...Though — may I?"
"If you were going to ask permission, you should have done it before accepting."
At Johan's words, Izelia lowered her head, half in embarrassment.
"For now, the domain runs itself whether you stand watch as acting Count or not, so joining the expedition won't cause any trouble."
That the domain ran smoothly was only natural, seeing as he had crammed administrative officials into every vacancy he could find. In truth, Izelia's administrative abilities were on the lacking side. About the level of an ordinary elven knight, and no more...
Izelia flushed crimson, eyes shimmering with happy tears. She took Johan's hand in hers.
"I... I swear... I will lay before you the head of the very first one I take, along with all my spoils. Just watch."
"......"
Why is she saying something so blood-curdling in a voice so brimming with affection...?
Izelia waited shyly for his answer. Judging by her expression, she believed she had just said something terribly romantic.
Right. She worked up the courage to say it, so I'll cheer her on...
"I look forward to that head, Izelia."
Izelia threw her arms around him. The embrace carried trust and expectation in equal measure. Johan stroked her long hair and patted her back gently.
"Your Grace. I have reforged Dusk."
"Splendid work, Bolranreunt. I shall grant you a further reward."
At Johan's gesture, a heap of gold from the Balkan Kingdom was set before him. Bolranreunt and his apprentices bowed in gratitude. There was no better employer than one who knew weapons — save one who knew weapons and paid handsomely.
The armor had been finished easily enough, but Duke Brudhe's silver sword had resisted completion. The enchantment bound within it was to blame. Bolranreunt and his apprentices had exhausted every artifice at their disposal before finally seeing it done.
"Although... the color..."
At Johan's words, Bolranreunt flinched. The blade of Dusk, once pure silver, was now shot through with a reddish gleam.
"I have committed a mortal sin, Your Grace!"
"No... as long as the blade cuts well, that's all that matters."
Johan whirled the sword in a full arc, checking its balance. The magical force it carried felt as strong as ever, and the edge and balance were sound. A blade running a bit red was no reason to cut down a dwarf.
"How did this happen?"
"Judging by my humble knowledge, I suspect the blood of that cyclops — blood steeped in its dying grudge — worked its way into the steel..."
"Does that happen often?"
"Powerful monsters do sometimes leave their mark upon a weapon. I tried to cleanse it, but failed."
"No matter. We'll use it as it is."
Johan sheathed Dusk at his hip. For a man who faced monsters as often as he did, Dusk had always been a useful weapon. A little shift in the silver's hue was hardly grounds to leave it behind.
-When we examined it, we found nothing amiss — but there may be a flaw we failed to detect. Be mindful of that, I beg you.
Johan drew Dusk and leveled it at Zhannina. She shrieked and recoiled in shock.
"I haven't done anything wrong yet!"
"Yet?"
"I haven't done anything wrong, Your Grace!"
"Right. Understood. Would you have a look at this sword for me?"
"...Ah. Of course. That's all it was."
Zhannina let out a long breath of relief. Coming up onto the deck, she had half believed Johan meant to cut her down the moment she boarded.
When word spread that Johan was off to hunt pirates, Zhannina had gone straight to Suetelg with a piece of frank advice: "Surely an expedition ought to have at least one mage aboard?"
Who knew what manner of wicked sorcery the heathen pirates might unleash?
-I see. Well said. Hear me! Send word to the southern domains — wherever a capable mage is found, that mage shall join the expedition.
-Surely that isn't necessary, my lord? You have me right here.
-Ah... so you volunteer?
-...Why? Is there a problem?
-Hmm. Does it truly have to be you?
-Why not me?!
Because Zhannina couldn't read a word of the Ancient Imperial Language, Suetelg doubted her abilities. Only through desperate pleading and a shameless exhibition of her talents had she clawed her way onto the expedition roster.
Damned paper, damned ink, damned scribes.
"Could it be... that blood steeped in a monster's grudge touched the broken blade?"
Zhannina dropped her voice and fixed Johan with a strangely wavering gaze — the look of a genuine mage.
This is my chance!
She had not, in fact, divined it through magic.
A suspicious upstart mage from the bottom of the social ladder needed a knack for rumor to survive an emperor's court. A single well-placed rumor could change the way the court's eyes fell upon her.
Zhannina had already heard, through the scribes, that Dusk had broken and was being reforged. It had been nothing more than idle gossip — but wielded well, it could pass her off as a mage of formidable insight.
Why, Izelia was even now gazing at her with undisguised admiration.
"You heard the rumor back at the domain, yet you pretend ignorance? Are you eager to be thrown off this ship?"
"...I only wished to confirm, just in case..."
Johan, however, was one move ahead. He probed her in a voice of studied indifference, and Zhannina took the bait completely.
She wilted, her excuse trailing off in a deflated voice.
"Usually, a weapon touched by a monster's grudge-soaked blood comes to take on that monster's nature."
"And how would one confirm that?"
"I'm no knight, so I can't say for certain, but knights say that a weapon, in time, comes to acknowledge the hand that wields it. And when it does, the power sealed within the weapon..."
Johan caught her meaning at once. Mystery granted its strength only to a worthy master.
For Johan, of course, that was a different story.
He called upon Balkalmur and wrenched the power sealed within Dusk into the open by force. The power bound in the blade was dragged out with a scream.
"...I don't see that anything's changed?"
"N-no, that can't be. That's impossible...?"