The Governor's Hospitality

"My lord, this is turning into rather an awkward situation..."

Giada said this as if genuinely worried.

The Vinashitim Empire and the Republic might have been irreconcilable enemies, but whenever they faced that heathen empire of the east, they always joined forces. The Easterners were the foe of them both.

From far away, he had assumed they were fully occupied trading blows with Vinashitim at the height of their war — but listening now, it seemed they were eyeing the sea lanes toward Ulka and the western coast as well.

At this rate, forget exercising force against Vinashitim; it looked like he would have to worry about those heathen devils first.

"Aren't the southern islands still holding out safely? I don't see any need to start worrying yet."

"That is true, but... frankly speaking, my lord, the Vinashitim lot don't fight all that well."

Giada's worry had reason behind it. The soldiers of the Vinashitim Empire had dwindled greatly in number, and their discipline had gone slack. The few botched battles they had suffered of late were practically famous.

Setting aside a handful of units, honestly speaking, they were difficult to trust as a fighting force.

"As you know, my lord, a war can collapse from top to bottom the moment a single defeat goes wrong. That is what I fear."

"Understood. I'll keep it in mind."

Johan accepted Giada's concern. He doubted it would come to that, but there was sense in the worry all the same.

Fighting here was mostly small-scale skirmishing. A few dozen men would maneuver and scout, and when they ran into each other, they fought. Gathered armies meeting in pitched battle were a rare thing.

But if they collided once and were beaten so badly they couldn't even retreat properly, the surrounding region would simply be left empty. The enemy would seize it in an instant.

Even with the enemy far away, one could not afford to relax.

I'll need to pry a bit more out of him, that's certain.

"Cleared for passage!"

The mercenaries turned the pirates' belongings inside out. Every bit of property dug up here was a handsome payday for them.

The pirates clambered back aboard their ship amid curses. In their hearts they wanted to lunge at the soldiers, but looking at their numbers and the state of their armament, they judged it fortunate they hadn't tried.

"Is that Count Eitz over there?"

"Younger than I expected. And he hardly looks like a warrior — more like a merchant."

"Crazy bastards, the lot of you. Shut up."

"He can't understand a word we're saying anyway."

Giada spat out his curses with an air of sheer incredulity.

"These pirate scum — we spared their lives, and now they gab away without a shred of gratitude? Keep flapping your mouths and I'll rip out your tongues and toss them into the sea!"

"!"

"And the Count isn't me, you idiots — it's that man over there!"

Watching Johan walk out, the pirates were struck by how much younger he looked than they'd imagined. He seemed barely twenty — a mere whelp.

Johan noticed the stares as he approached and turned his head. A fierce power of soul was pulsing in his eyes. The pirates who met that gaze could not hold it and ducked their heads, feeling as though their hearts had been seized in a fist.

"Any problems?"

"No, my lord. They're evacuating the fortress now."

"Make sure the nobleman doesn't slip away."

Johan and the mercenaries waited without letting anything show. If they tipped the man off and made him wary, he might sneak off in the night, and that would only complicate matters.

A vampire past forty, with a scar on his cheek — and bald, was it?

Knowing his face and dress made the target easy to find.

"Found him."

"Arrest him and bring him here."

The mercenaries moved in, and Bashhar nearly jumped out of his skin. The guards disguised as pirates beside him at once reached for the swords at their belts.

Johan's slave soldiers leveled their bows. The slaves had been trained not only in crossbows but in the longbow as well — a gift of the eastern tribes. With dozens of archers drawing down on them, the guards flinched and froze where they stood.

"Wh-why are you doing this, my lord Count?"

"No need for such exaggerated courtesy between nobles. Lord Bashhar. Come this way — I'd rather not see blood."

Bashhar was first appalled, then resigned. He came out without resistance.

"By custom, my rights as a prisoner—"

"I know them. Have your weapons returned."

"My master ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will not look kindly upon this affair."

"Did his master ever look kindly on me to begin with?"

Left without an answer by that, Bashhar closed his mouth. A few of the pirates, standing there dumbfounded, piped up.

"Lord Bashhar, then what happens to our business?"

These utter fools...!

At the sight of these idiots openly advertising, in front of the Count himself, that they had come here to hire them, Bashhar felt his chest seize up. Johan snorted.

"Hiring pirates must be a real trial. Wouldn't you say? Sail north. If I catch you heading south, I'll sink you."

"......"

The pirates muttered among themselves and set sail. Who knew how many of them would actually obey the order, but few of them looked like the type to keep a promise at the cost of their lives.

"If I pay ransom, will you release me?"

"Of course."

At Johan's word, Bashhar allowed himself a measure of relief. Customs regarding prisoners were identical in the East and on the continent alike — though religion was the exception.

Faith, on occasion, would make a man swing a sword while ignoring even gold.

"My thanks. Then, trusting in that promise—"

"My lord! A warship has appeared!"

Every head present snapped around. The looks in their eyes said they were ready to seize Bashhar and his guards on the spot. Bashhar panicked.

It was true this region was being targeted, but their fleet was still far from ready. There was no way it could have reached this far north.

"Ah. It's a Vinashitim banner."

"Whew..."

Bashhar let out a sigh of relief. For a moment there, he'd thought he was about to be strung up on the spot.

The Vinashitim official who arrived aboard the warship was scrupulously courteous. The sight pleased Johan somewhat.

But the moment the official opened his mouth, Johan's face hardened. The attitude was impeccable; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the words being delivered were anything but.

"Get out of here, is what he says?"

"M-my lord. This was Vinashitim territory from the start."

It hadn't mattered when bands of pirate vermin seized the islands nearby. At worst they raided a few fishermen ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and small merchant vessels; anything more was beyond them.

But Count Eitz occupying an island together with the Republic's fleet was another matter entirely. Anyone could see it was preliminary work for an advance onto the mainland.

When the report of a fleet arrived, the governor of the nearest port city had been so startled he'd dispatched an official at once.

Neither the governor nor the official seemed to have a proper grasp of who Johan was yet. And the news had arrived late, besides. The marriage alliance was as good as dissolved already. Once the fraud had been exposed, how was it supposed to be patched up?

"My understanding differs. Ever since Duke Brudhe hired mercenaries and took these islands, they have been the territory of House Brudhe. Lord Hormaric inherited them from the Duke, and at his request I set out to exterminate the pirates."

"Ah— no, wait."

The official was flustered that Johan had arrived armed with a far more legitimate justification than expected. After all, in terms of rank alone, the man couldn't hold a candle to Johan. One minor official born of low nobility — versus a landed lord who was the liege of the entire south?

"And the marriage alliance ended thanks to your fraudsters long ago. What is this nonsense?"

"I beg your pardon? What do you mean—"

"Go back and find out what I mean. Out of respect for Vinashitim's dignity I won't punish you — but if you spout any more of this drivel, you will not leave this place alive. Get out!"

At Johan's roar, the official fled in terror. And then, having boarded his ship, he hurriedly departed...

...except he didn't.

The official came back ashore leading several dozen soldiers. Johan was bewildered by the sheer absurdity of it.

What is this? Is the man insane?

The soldiers looked equally startled. Unless every one of those dozens was some peerless master...

Are they trying to kill themselves?

"My lord! It turns out there has been a misunderstanding. Pray, allow your anger to be soothed!"

But the ones accompanying those soldiers hadn't come because of the raid. They were the newly emerged noble's guards and servants.

A man in splendid clothing — different from the official of before — stepped forward and prostrated himself.

"Who is this lord?"

"I am a humble man by the name of Semenus, my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lord! I serve as the city's treasurer."

The official from before stepped in to elaborate on Semenus's rank.

"Lord Semenus is the brother of His Excellency the Governor."

"Ah. Is that so."

"My lord! Please, allow us to host you properly, so that we may resolve this misunderstanding, however little!"

"...?"

Johan was taken aback by the sudden invitation.

What does this mean?

Chased off, and failing at that, now they were inviting him into the city? It was so transparent it felt like a trap.

But even a three-year-old child wouldn't lay a trap this obvious.

"Well, well. The Governor has sharp eyes."

"?"

"I'd wager it's because he fears you'll attack, my lord. Treat you well, and in return you won't strike the city — that's the ask, isn't it?"

"!"

At Giada's words, Johan understood what his counterpart wanted.

The governors of Vinashitim were officials appointed by the Emperor to administer each province, but in practice they occupied positions much like the lords of those lands.

If the city was sacked and attacked, who stood to lose the most? The governor, of course.

And so the governor had sent his envoy while, just in case, issuing orders to his own brother.

So long as his own city went untouched, the Count could land and march wherever else he pleased.

Johan marveled at the loyalty of Vinashitim's governors. What astonished him more was that neither Giada nor Gianna seemed remotely surprised by such an attitude.

"If the Governor cooperates, things will go much more smoothly."

"You don't think they could be laying a trap?"

These people? Hahahaha! Surely you jest... no. You're serious, aren't you?

"Anyone can lay a trap, can't they?"

"Not unless they've lost their minds, they won't."

Giada chuckled as if the notion were absurd.

"If the city's soldiers attempt any ambush, my lord, you'll cut down half of them with one arm, my crew and I will dispatch the other half, and then we'll simply stroll back aboard and sail away."

"Aren't you being a bit too confident, Giada?"

"Once you've seen it for yourself, my lord, you'll know I wasn't wrong."

"Fine. It's not as though I can't turn back anytime before I go ashore..."

Johan said this with a doubtful look. Giada shrugged, as if to say, just wait and see.

And Giada had been right. The moment the harbor came into view, Johan understood why he'd said it.

Merchants of Republican origin and the staff they employed. Servants and slaves besides. Those who had caught wind of his arrival in advance had come out to welcome him.

This place was unlike the cities of the duchy. More than a third of the city's population were outsiders — not Vinashitim at all. Beginning with the merchants from the Republic and extending to the mercenaries and travelers who had drifted in, the makeup was impossible to pin down.

These people formed one of the city's great pillars. If the Governor tried to spring a trap of his own accord, traitors would spring up in droves on the spot, and some of them would raise rebellion within the city itself.

"I see. So that's why you were so confident."

"Honor and custom play their part, but setting those aside — even if the Governor wanted to attempt something mad, he simply lacks the means."

The governor here resembled a territorial lord, but his authority differed by a wide margin. One small misstep and the citizens would turn on him.

So ambushing an invited Count — worse, a Count enjoying the fervent support of a portion of the city — in disgrace was simply impossible.

"What manner of man is this Governor?"

"I've never met him myself, only heard rumors... but I doubt it matters much. He's the one in the awkward position, so he'll be begging earnestly enough. You needn't concern yourself."

"All the same, one shouldn't relax too much when dealing with the master of a city."

"Honestly, I think relaxing would be just fine..."

"It's all the doing of that young, featherbrained Emperor! To heap such insults upon Your Excellency — I simply cannot forgive it. What are you doing? Your cup is empty. Refill it — why are you just standing there!"

Greeting him with excessive intimacy the moment they met, seating him, pouring wine, and then launching into a virtuoso performance of cursing the Emperor — Johan felt his head spinning.

He hadn't expected to be assailed so brazenly, gall and all left entirely at home.

"If it were up to my heart's desire, I would send you my own child! If only my boy were a little more useful, I'd have sent him straight to Your Excellency."

"No... that's quite all right."

Johan refused flatly — if he showed even joking interest, the man looked ready to bring up marriage negotiations in dead earnest. The Governor's appearance did not promise promising children.