No Dragon Bloodline to Send
The centaurs nodded around the captive envoy, who stared back at them with a face full of fear.
The centaurs—a violent race of half man, half beast—had not drifted into the eastern Holy Empire alone. Their tribes had flowed into the north of Vinashitim as well, and most had settled among the petty kingdoms there, hardening into cold-blooded raiders. Vinashitim sought to hold them in check with gold and honors, but they were creatures who might turn at any moment.
And now, of all things, he was meeting centaurs here.
Choked with dread, the envoy opened his mouth in the Ancient Imperial Language.
"Why do you keep such fearsome, savage creatures at your side?"
"What's he yammering about?" Aclada asked, tilting his head. He could at least gather, from the way the man's eyes kept darting toward them, that they were the subject.
"He says you're terrifying and savage."
"Well, now... such praise... really, you have quite the gift for making a fellow blush?"
Aclada and the other centaurs preened, bashful and delighted in equal measure. To them, being called savage and fearsome was a compliment, not an insult.
From their bearing, the envoy realized that Johan held the centaurs' loyalty. For a noble of Imperial birth, it was a hard thing to believe.
How?
"If you've come as an envoy, then hand over whatever letter you brought."
The letter the envoy produced was sealed with the Emperor's signet. Power stirred within the purple wax stamped with the imperial crest—likely the work of the seal ring the Emperor himself wore.
'If anyone other than the intended recipient opened it, would the contents burn to ash?'
Curious, Johan drew the letter out. Watching him read it without summoning anyone, the envoy realized that Johan could speak and read the Ancient Imperial Language with ease.
"...!"
Nonplussed by an intellect so unlike the rumors, the envoy faltered. Honestly, he had never imagined a noble of Holy Empire birth—worse, one of knightly stock—would carry himself with such refinement.
To Count Yeats, master of Kulia and Idra, ruler of Jikillid, knight and standard-bearer of the Monotheist Order, and a warrior of great renown—
I know full well you will not wish to receive such a letter. You may well cut off your envoy's neck the moment it reaches your hands. But if any shred of leniency and mercy remains in you, Count, I beg you—leave his neck where it hangs.
This marriage was never my desire. Why would I cheapen the Dragon Bloodline into common wares? Grand Chamberlain Leoanos is an arrogant man. Forgive me for failing to check his tyranny.
I shall speak the truth befitting a Count's honor: the imperial house has no honorable Dragon Bloodline to send you.
"...No."
In a situation that called for scraping up someone—anyone, from anywhere—and sending him along, the man had the gall to declare outright that he had no one?
Having read that far, Johan stopped and lifted his head. The envoy felt a fat bead of sweat slide down his forehead. He knew exactly which line had stopped him.
'He really should have brought someone, anyone...'
The Dragon Bloodline did not simply mean blood tied to the dragon beast-folk or the imperial house. One had to be born the legitimate child of a reigning Emperor and educated within the imperial palace itself. Precious beyond measure, and few in number—and most of those were already wed, so finding one fit to send was no simple task.
Even so, sending an envoy to smooth things over and then declaring, 'We have no such bloodline to spare,' hardly seemed a wise choice. However heartfelt the words, what good were they if the other side could not bring himself to believe them?
...In exchange, I shall pay the promised dowry with a further sum of gold besides. Once matters are settled, an envoy will call upon you.
"Hmm. If gold is on the table..."
"?!"
The envoy was dumbstruck. Johan had accepted far too readily.
It was a relief that the man was so accommodating, but as a high-born noble of Vinashitim, he could not comprehend it. Was the Dragon Bloodline such cheap goods that gold could buy acceptance of its loss?
"What's the matter? You look like a man who wants me to refuse."
"N-No, of course not! How could I possibly?!"
The envoy flailed his hands in alarm. If his own expression botched this affair, hanging himself with his own two hands would be too good for him.
"I bear no particular attachment to the Dragon Bloodline. If I am compensated with a suitable amount of gold, I am inclined to forgive."
"...Your Excellency. The Dragon Bloodline is a lineage passed down since the days of the Ancient Empire, steeped in the noblest and most powerful of magics—"
"Yes, yes. I'm sure."
"......"
'This is why you can't trust westerners!'
Inwardly, the envoy cursed the Holy Empire and the rest of the Monotheists. Barbarians to the bone, without a shred of respect for tradition.
Johan read on. He half expected some request to follow the promise of gold, but there was none—not that he had any intention of granting one in the first place.
Instead, the letter held detailed intelligence on the force under Grand Chamberlain Leoanos: the goat beast-folk were especially wanting in loyalty, and as for the chamberlain's personal guard, they were men of such-and-such stripe...
"You want me to beat this Leoanos fellow for you?"
"I know nothing of any such thing, Your Excellency."
"'Know nothing,' he says. In any case, understood. Go back and tell your master that I will consider the matter favorably."
At Johan's words, the envoy's face lit up. Emerging with his neck intact and such an answer in hand was, in itself, a tremendous achievement.
Above all, he had managed to sound out Count Yeats's intentions, and that was the true prize. Astonishingly, the Count appeared to have little interest in Vinashitim's fertile earth—his utter indifference to the Dragon Bloodline proved it. That alone made the envoy's worries feel several times lighter.
Once the envoy had gone, Johan turned to the centaurs.
"I hear this Leoanos has reached the gate fortress. How did it look?"
"Looked... very hard to break through."
At Euclia's words, the other centaurs nodded along.
The vast mountain range blanketing the west was a natural rampart in itself. To cross it, one had to move along the Ancient Imperial highway threading between the peaks, and Vinashitim were no fools; they had prepared the gate fortress with considerable thoroughness.
"They won't come out unless they're fools, then?"
"That would be my guess."
"What about raiding the surroundings to draw them out?"
"We can't, not while we have the governor's cooperation here. And even if we sacked other cities, I doubt they'd stir. From what I hear, he's quite the crafty old serpent."
An old noble obsessed with power was unlikely to come charging out because a few cities that weren't even his had been plundered.
"It seems there is no real need to attack..."
"No need to attack?! Did you come here on holiday?!"
"What manner of nonsense is that!"
At one centurion's words, the eastern tribes bristled. Unlike the mercenaries, the eastern tribes had gone far too long without a proper fight.
"Well, even so, we can't very well scale those cliffs and assault the gate, can we! Do you mean to fight a siege, then?"
"......"
Even the centaurs could not quite bring themselves to propose hurling their bodies against the fortress walls.
"Now that the Emperor has sent a letter, there is indeed no pressing need to attack."
Johan took the centurion's side. The purpose of coming here had, for all practical purposes, already been achieved. The show of force was retaliation for the fraudulent proposal, a means of extracting redress—and the other side had bent first. Had they dug in, that would have been another matter, but there was no need to force a march.
"And if they break their promise?"
"They're not likely to be that stupid, but if it comes to that, we simply move to suit the moment."
Even without crossing the mountains and the gate, the port cities along the coast lay open to raiding at their leisure. Their very presence here was a threat to that effect.
"Time is on our side, so we will wait. See that the men don't grow too idle. And keep up regular scouting of the gate, just in case."
"Yes..."
"And don't sulk too sorely over not getting to fight."
"Yes..."
"The enemy inside that gate won't stay cooped up in there forever either. They'll keep sending out scouts of their own, won't they? I look forward to your exploits."
"Yes!"
At Johan's soothing words, the centaurs perked up once more. And it was true enough. This was the enemy's homeland too—of course they would keep sending warriors out.
...Johan's prediction was wrong.
Leoanos did not send so much as a single soldier beyond the gate. It was behavior so thick-skinned that even the governor grumbled, 'Isn't this going a bit too far, my lord?'
He should at least have sent someone into the city to learn what had happened and take stock of it...
"Why is that Count sitting on his hands?!"
Contrary to what those outside imagined, Leoanos was himself in a considerable state of agitation. He had expected Johan to move like a madman, pillaging everything in his path, but the Count, as though he had eaten something spoiled, had simply planted himself in one spot and refused to budge.
Only if Vinashitim descended into chaos would it become easy for Leoanos himself to make his move—so why had that Count sat still for over a month?
"Would it not be better to send an envoy of some sort?"
"Hmm. To say what, exactly?"
"An insult, perhaps..."
"!"
It was certainly not a poor choice. If the gate were attacked, so much the better; and even if the Count, stung by the affront, went off to plunder other cities, that was no concern of his.
"A fine thought indeed. Send men to mock the fellow!"
Fellows with the audacity to walk into a Count's war camp and mock him to his face were duly selected. Not long after they departed, a report arrived from the traveling merchants nearby.
"Army banners have been sighted! Troops are marching this way!"
"Marching here? The Count has some nerve. Prepare for battle!"
Leoanos was brimming with confidence. Hide behind fortress walls long enough, and even a coward turns brave. Knowing little of Johan, Leoanos felt not a flicker of fear.
Rout and break this foreign Count? That would be no bad choice either. It would bury this latest blunder entirely and clear his return to the capital. The rebellion could be delayed, but...
"Lord Leoanos!"
"What is it?"
"It is not the Count's army!"
"Not the Count's army? What drivel is this? Are you telling me the petty kingdoms have come marching down this far?"
"No, my lord! The heathen army has come right up to our very gates!"
"...?!??!"
"No, hold on. How did they even get here?"
Johan was flabbergasted by the report that a heathen army had landed and was pushing inland not far from the city. There were surely fortified islands to the south—had they punched straight through them? Those should still be standing.
"It appears they took a long detour around the Far Sea."
Even Kiada had not seen it coming; his bewilderment was plain. He had never dreamed they would come north by so witless a route. And had it failed, how did they mean to get home? However little they thought of Vinashitim...
"Your Excellency! Your Excellency!"
The governor came running first of all, his face full of naked terror that Johan might simply leave.
He had meant to fob off his superiors with the excuse that he had hired the Count and his soldiers as mercenaries—but who could have known he would actually end up employing mercenaries for real!
"You must not leave!"
"I'm not leaving. Calm yourself and speak."
"They will come here, burn everything, and carry off all that remains. I beg you—do not abandon me and my city!"
The governor bowed flat to the ground, offering up mound after mound of gold. Johan calmed him down. He had no thought of abandoning the city in any case. There were the Republic's merchants to consider, and above all, it was a vital supply base.
"I will station soldiers on the walls and prepare a defense."
"Thank you! Thank you! I will never, ever forget this grace!"
...Yet exactly three days later, the governor forgot that grace. The heathen army had left the city untouched and begun marching toward the mountain gate.
The governor repented in his heart.
'I should have waited three days before handing that over...!'
To be fair, it was possible the enemy had been frightened off by the presence of Johan's mercenaries in the city, but to a man who had just lost a fortune in gold, the explanation did not much console.
"Well, the city is safe now—good for you, eh, Governor?"
"I am so happy I could weep... Your Excellency..."
The heathen army, having come ashore just south of the port city, plundered a handful of villages and made straight for the mountain gate. To advance while leaving the city behind them untouched—such towering confidence.
"Where do they get the nerve?"
"Presumably they believe they will win if they take the field. Their numbers are great enough for it..."
Rumor held that the enemy host that had landed was near ten thousand strong. Even if the figure was not exact, it was a scale that could not fail to overawe.
"Once through the gate, they could race east along the imperial highway at speed. Whoever their commander is, he has gall to spare."
"I came all this way to collect gold, and matters grow complicated... Why do you suppose they passed this city by?"
"That I cannot say, Your Excellency. Might they have given it a wide berth upon hearing of your renown?"
"None of that nonsense, now."