The Lion's Valor and the Fox's Cunning
The elf knights handled their horses with practiced ease and answered the cheering crowds with haughty indifference. They regarded the applause and congratulations not as favors to be grateful for, but as tributes rightfully owed to them—sources of pride, not gratitude.
Knights fundamentally different from Johan, who was already running the numbers in his head, calculating just how much this campaign had lined his pockets.
The profits were so rich that a smile spread across his face all on its own. Meanwhile, the elf knights accepted the gifts offered up by the noble ladies of the city and handed them over to Johan while heaping praise upon him.
"Had this honorable knight not been here, I would have perished where I stood."
"Hm? Ah. Yes, that did happen."
"Applause for the knight who understands what honor means! He has earned every word of praise!"
The elf knights made certain that Johan's name was branded into the minds of the city's nobility. Hearing of his deeds secondhand in a centurion's report was one thing; being lauded in a public gathering where everyone could see and listen was something else entirely in terms of influence.
With this, Johan was no longer merely an imperial-born knight who had drifted into the region to seek his fortune and happened to distinguish himself by luck. He was now a knight of proven skill and honor—vouched for, no less, by other knights.
For a single campaign, it was an absurdly good deal.
"Did you plan it that way?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Just curious. Saving the elf knights, I mean."
Once the triumphal ceremony ended, the two of them retired to the manor to rest. Johan was as vigorous as ever, but Swätlugh could barely hold herself upright after the toll the magic had taken on her body. Goidun was technically Johan's slave, yet he seemed to spend far more time attending to Swätlugh than to his master.
Why is it that the mage's servants never do any work, though?
Goidun had no idea that the slaves were so terrified of the mage they didn't dare lay a hand on her. Had he known the full circumstances, he would never have been so casual with her either.
"Those arrogant elves have fallen head over heels for you. A maiden in love wouldn't even go that far."
"Who on earth plans for that sort of thing? They gave me gifts, so I gave them some back. That's all."
"If you truly didn't plan it, that's somehow even more impressive. Wait—is this perfumed oil? What do you intend to use it for?"
"It's for Ivelka."
"Who is Ivelka?"
"The maid who attends to me, remember?"
At Johan's words, Swätlugh looked taken aback.
"You're not getting any strange ideas, are you? That maid had a lover before you arrived, and she'll have a new one before long after you leave. She is no lady of standing."
Every so often, among the young ones, there were men who mixed a little flesh together and then assumed the other person belonged to them. If the woman in question were demure and sheltered, perhaps. But when the other party felt nothing, laboring under such a delusion earned nothing but humiliation.
Worse still, a knight whose star was rising had nothing to gain from picking a jealous quarrel over a single maid.
"I'm well aware of that?"
"...You are? Then why give her a gift?"
"Honestly, my lady. Must every gift signify something deep and serious? One can simply give one. And Ivelka has been helpful to me in all sorts of ways."
"Don't tell me this 'help' of hers refers to what lies below the waist?"
"...What kind of nonsense is that? I meant rumors about the city. I haven't been in this city long, after all. Ivelka has connections everywhere, so she's an excellent source for this gossip and that. Granted, being a guild-affiliated maid, she does have to watch her tongue somewhat—but if one keeps her happy like this, doesn't that loosen it a little?"
"...!"
Swätlugh was genuinely stunned by what she heard. She had taken Johan for a young, hot-blooded knight, yet the way he thought was that of a venerable old aristocrat, straight out of the political chamber.
Kights who thought that way were rare. Most, having been sequestered in castles from childhood and trained in nothing but the knightly arts, ended up with their thinking ossified along those very lines.
"Have you been playing around with that scheme in mind from the start?"
"'Playing around'? If anyone overheard you, they'd get the wrong idea... It was something I did on the side, while I was at it anyway. There's no harm in giving a gift, after all."
"You truly never cease to amaze me. And I'm not someone who startles easily... Do you know the saying about the lion's valor and the fox's cunning?"
"What is that?"
"A virtue a king must possess. To be both brave and cunning. Rare is the man who has both at once—and most knights have only the former."
"That much is certainly true."
"But you show talent in both."
"...I wouldn't call myself cunning."
"No. You have talent aplenty."
It was clearly a compliment, yet somehow it stung like an insult. Johan gave a reluctant nod.
"I suppose you'll manage fine at the banquet the Consul is holding. Though I was a little worried, honestly."
"I've looked into it. It doesn't seem like an occasion worth fretting over, does it?"
"They'll be inviting mercenary captains and even priests, so you needn't mind the formalities much. Small missteps won't be held against anyone. But you, Johan—you'll need to mind your step in a different sense. Young, lightly backed, and a capable knight fresh off a distinguished campaign. Who wouldn't covet that?"
"......"
Swätlugh's words snapped Johan back to attention. It was absolutely right. His position was still precarious—and precisely the kind of position that was convenient to exploit.
"It would be fortunate if they courted you with genuine respect, but the world rarely obliges with such tidy arrangements. City nobles least of all. Keep your wits about you, and if an offer comes, think on it deeply before you accept."
"I'll bear it in mind. As it happens, I've already been digging into who's been paying attention to Ivelka—I'll have to dig deeper still."
"...I rather think I needn't have said anything at all."
City nobles were, strictly speaking, not nobles at all. Those who held power in a city might be commoners who had amassed fortunes, guild masters, or mercenary captains decorated for military service.
But in a city without a lord, they acted like nobles—and were treated, for all practical purposes, as such.
The Consul and the city council were the core of these city nobles, and at the same time, the rulers of the city. They were supposedly elected democratically, but in reality the machinery ran, as always, on money and influence. One might as well call the Consul and his household this city's lord and lordly family.
Compared to what imperial nobles like Johan had to endure—proving themselves through accent and bearing—it was far easier and simpler. It was no accident that elves were treated as true blue blood.
"In gratitude for the campaign, I dedicate this glory to the gods!"
"Thanks be to the gods!"
The banquet was, without question, free of stuffy formality. Mercenary captains who had distinguished themselves in the campaign were seated at the far end of the long table—it could hardly have been otherwise. Their faces wore the pleasure and pride of men who had been invited to such a gathering at all.
Johan took note of the rank and station of everyone seated around him and steeled himself once more.
"Ser Johan. It's a joyous day—surely you're drinking too little? Here, drink freely."
An elf knight of the Belemen house filled Johan's cup to the brim with wine. Of everyone present, these elf knights were undoubtedly the most comfortable company.
The campaign was done, and now they need only return to the Count and receive their laurels...
Still, having them planted right beside him meant even an outsider like Johan could chat with some ease. And there was one unexpected benefit as well.
"Ser Johan. I heard the tale of how you hunted a troll. To have earned such a feat at your age is truly remarkable. Now, there's a noble to whom I owe a great debt, and a cockatrice has appeared on his lands. What say you? Might you wish to pile an even more radiant deed atop that shining honor of yours?"
"Ha! If anyone wants a cockatrice caught, they should summon a paladin who's lost his mind and prays for death, or else hire a hunter—what business is that of an honorable knight? Bringing up such filthy, thorny work to Ser Johan of all people—is that not the height of insolence?"
The elf knights slammed their cups down hard enough to slosh wine over the rims as they roared. Tipsy on sweet wine, with nothing left to want for in this city, they spoke their minds boldly to city nobles and anyone else alike.
From Johan's standpoint, it was honestly refreshing.
"N-no, I merely raised the matter in passing. I thought Ser Johan might take an interest..."
"Interest, indeed! As if we don't know what a filthy, wretched business catching a cockatrice is! What do you take a knight's honor for? Huddled away in your back alleys, fondling your gems—the lot of you!"
"......"
The man who had raised the topic retreated with his face burning scarlet. After a few such episodes, no one dared offer any more petty proposals.
"Ser Johan. My nephew happens to be of just the right age, and a truly sweet child—I think she'd suit you well, which is why I mention it..."
"Lord Morens, just how many nephews and nieces do you have? You only just married a daughter off, didn't you? Did her husband die in the meantime, or have you taken in a new stepdaughter since? No—forgive me, this one I must settle plainly. If the stepdaughter is of decent birth, fine, but surely you haven't gone and scooped an orphan off the street and dressed her up? Only, I heard something to that effect just recently..."
Good gods, these lunatics.
With the wine evidently working its way to the very tops of their skulls, the elf knights seemed to be firing off whatever crossed their minds without a shred of thought.
Johan didn't care in the least and simply enjoyed the show, but the insulted parties flushed scarlet and cursed the knights out in turn. They were truly a lawless lot—no wonder they weren't proper city folk.
The offers I received today really were all rather dubious.
As he drained his cup, Johan sorted through the day's proposals. Most of them had been attempts to covet his abilities and exploit them on the cheap.
Set against offers like these, the contract with the Kettana Merchant Guild felt positively generous.
Renown mattered—but renown alone was not enough. Without backing to match, one would end up like this, with strays swarming in from every direction.
"Ser Johan?"
"?"
"His Excellency requests a private audience with you."
"......"
Which was why the proposal that arrived near the banquet's end left Johan thoroughly bewildered.
"Do you know why I've summoned you apart like this, Ser Johan?"
"?"
The Consul skipped the customary pleasantries and plunged straight to business—an attitude that piqued Johan's interest.
"You've called me somewhere out of earshot to ask a question that must be asked, haven't you?"
"And what do you suppose that question is?"
"Let me see. Something concerning the Emperor?"
At Johan's answer, the Consul brightened with evident delight.
"Exactly right on the first try. So tell me—will you stand with the Emperor, or on the other side?"
"I serve under the Merchant Guild's banner, so I will follow the Guild's will."
"Spare me such empty talk, Ser Johan. Why else would I have had you brought here? Do you imagine any knight in this world intends to stay with a merchant guild for life? You clasp hands only for as long as you have need of each other—nothing more."
"Do you take issue with my following the Guild's will?"
"Come now, Ser Johan. The Kettana Merchant Guild is one of this city's stalwart pillars, but... frankly, if the Emperor paid them more, they'd just as readily side with the Emperor. I don't put my trust in such people lightly."