The Merchant's Plan
Doris's face crumpled on the spot. Some mad mercenary, of all things...
He knew exactly why the man had come. Praise the knight, collect a few coins, then angle for food and wine. Judging by the smell of alcohol wafting off him, his intentions were plain as day.
Look at this hopeless bastard. Can't even keep one entrance guarded properly.
Of course, showing mercy to begging mercenaries was part of a noble's duty — and one of its pleasures. But he wasn't in the mood for the spectacle right now, and for one reason: his own scheme.
The moment Doris heard the name "the Troll Slayer of Marcel," he understood.
This knight is headed to Count Zarfen!
Why else would a young knight like Johan be wandering around in a place like this, at a time like this? However he looked at it, the man was clearly making for the Zarfen County.
Perhaps Count Abner had summoned him — but no. Count Abner was not the sort of easygoing noble who would call a young knight who'd made a name for himself just to meet him.
With the instinct of a greedy merchant, Doris was certain: Johan was bound for Count Zarfen's lands.
And if so?
Capturing him is pure profit! Hand him over to Lord Count Abner, and the reward alone...
Present the knight to Count Abner, spin a decent tale or two, and it became a military achievement — delivering a knight who'd been on his way to swear to Count Zarfen.
And that wasn't all. If Johan's family paid a ransom, there'd be another reward on top of that.
Doris was a greedy merchant, and a merchant who always hunted for opportunity. He was the man who'd obtained a permit from Count Abner and risen to chief merchant of the caravan — and a chief merchant was always someone angling for the big score.
In that brief moment, he'd hatched a plan: get Johan thoroughly drunk, put him to bed, then cow the mercenaries into surrendering their weapons. Doris was, unquestionably, a formidable merchant.
But plans always have a flaw.
The flaw in this one was Kahn.
"Aren't you Kahn?"
"Yes, that's me! I can't believe you remember me — what an honor! *Sob!* We only fought together once!"
Kahn faked his weeping and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Johan had caught on and decided to play along.
"When word reached me that you were here, I was so overjoyed I simply had to see your face, even from afar. *Hah.* I trust my presuming to come here was no offense!"
"Not at all. Giving to those beneath you is a joy. And what reason could I have to withhold hospitality from a warrior who fought beside me? Here — bring this man some food and drink."
Doris's mouth twisted, but he couldn't object. The moment he did, this merry atmosphere would shatter.
The servants heaped food in front of Kahn.
Kahn devoured it all like a starving animal — trout cooked in sauce, white bread smeared with camelin sauce, cuts of various meats, sausages stuffed with spices, wheat porridge thick with egg and meat, congealed beef tallow. A genuinely convincing performance.
He's half enjoying himself, at least.
Johan had been surprised to find Kahn here, and reasoned there had to be a purpose behind it. Which meant the display was an act. True enough, Doris regarded Kahn as pathetic and irritating and nothing more — he hadn't lifted a finger beyond that.
Though, to be fair, the dishes really were delicious...
"So what are you doing here, then?"
"Ah — yes! I've been working for a generous new employer."
At that, Doris forced out a magnanimous smile. For a mercenary, the man wasn't entirely without sense, it seemed.
Not that he had any intention of forgiving him. Once this business was finished, that mercenary and the fool standing at the entrance would both be flogged.
"And how kind my employer is... Do you remember Gamson, sir? He is kinder, more generous, and more faithful than even Gamson was."
"Oh."
Johan let his eyes go cold and feigned admiration. Doris, missing it entirely, burst into an embarrassed laugh. Such brazen flattery was almost too much to respond to.
"He's only saying that because he's drunk."
"Well, you must have treated him well, to earn it. An employer who hears such words from a mercenary is a rare thing indeed."
"Hahaha... Thank you. I'm a merchant who chases gold, I admit, but I do try to live devoutly in my own way. Are you aware, sir? There is even a priest behind me. But — who is this Gamson?"
"A priest, was he? A truly good man."
"Ah...!"
Flattered by the praise, Doris decided to lighten the man's punishment. He'd be assigned sentry duty instead of the whip.
"Sir knight — do you remember what Gamson did for you back then?"
"How could I forget? Men like that are rare."
"This man will treat you even better than Gamson did. You have my word! He is every bit as great a man!"
"......"
At those words, Johan made up his mind for certain.
Once Kahn had eaten and drunk everything down to the dregs, Johan cleared his throat and spoke.
"I have matters to discuss with Doris here. Could you give us the room for a moment?"
"Of course, of course!"
"Take this silver. A meeting like this is surely the grace of God."
As Johan pressed a silver coin into Kahn's hand, envy flickered across the faces of the servants nearby. What extravagant generosity.
And Doris was pleased as well.
By his spending, the family must have money too!
"Thank you! Thank you!"
"Right. Off you go."
Kahn was certain Johan had caught on to everything. With the quiet pride of a job well done, he withdrew carefully.
"What is it you wish to discuss, sir?"
"Hmm... it's a truly important matter. Step back a moment."
At Johan's word, the servants and slaves drew off to a distance. Doris swallowed without thinking. Watching Johan behave this way, he caught — for some reason — the scent of money.
"This is something I'll tell only you. You've earned the hospitality, after all."
"...Yes, sir!"
His heart was hammering so hard Johan could probably hear it. Doris leaned his ear in close.
"As it happens, Gamson is the name of a dog."
"I beg your—?"
Johan offered no further explanation. A thick arm snaked around Doris's neck. The breath slammed shut in his throat, and Doris let out a strangled huk.
Shing—
In the same breath, a longsword cleared its scabbard. Johan held it in one hand, leveled it forward, and spoke.
"Shut your mouth. Open it again, and I'll make you watch yourself licking your own tongue off the floorboards!"
—Grrr!
At that roar, the servants and slaves froze solid. The suddenness of it was bad enough, but it was Johan's killing intent that pinned them in place.
"Ghhk... S-sir knight. What... what is this?"
"What is this? You've got mercenaries lying in wait outside to jump me, and you have the gall to ask?"
"Khk, khk. There's been a misunderstand—"
"A misunderstanding? Are you mocking me, you merchant worm? Speak now, or I'll rip out your tongue and snap your neck. Talk."
Johan glared at Doris with burning eyes, a low growl in his voice. Doris felt the strength drain from his limbs. Knights were not the sort to accept being wrong about something.
A cold fear welled up in him: resist here, and the enraged Johan really might just break his neck on the spot.
"S-sir knight. Please... please spare me. I'll compensate you! I was wrong!"
"So you did have mercenaries ready."
Learning that it was all true, Johan's eyes went cold and still.
"Yes! Yes...! But I never meant to lay a finger on you! I intended to keep you as an honored guest only until the war ended! I swear it! On God!"
"Guest for whom?"
"F-for Count Abner... You're headed for the Zarfen County, aren't you...? I-if not, then I was mistaken, so please, forgive me... I-I'll give you gold coins."
"!"
Johan was honestly taken aback. This greedy merchant had deduced his destination at a glance.
He's not to be underestimated after all.
As even a worm will turn when it must, merchants possessed a peerless instinct for opportunity. If Kahn hadn't warned him, Johan would have simply waited, and waited, until they made the first move.
"Call your mercenaries in here."
Johan had a servant fetch the mercenaries into the tent. Doris stood floundering, at a complete loss.
"...!"
Professional to the bone, the veterans sized up the situation inside the tent without raising a cry.
"What in the world is going on...?"
"For now, make like you're eating and drinking. Don't stir suspicion outside."
"Ah — understood."
The mercenaries spread out through the tent and began taking the food the servants and slaves brought in. If not for the circumstances, it would have been a genuinely fine meal.
"This merchant here was going to hand me over to Count Abner."
"What—! Sir knight, you haven't even joined Count Zarfen's host yet! You can hardly be taken as a hostage!"
"I—I was mistaken, then..."
"Shut your mouth."
Johan silenced Doris and went on.
"It's not a matter of who moved first. You meant to seize me and tie the two of us together, didn't you."
"This gutting of a merchant — the audacity!"
"What was I supposed to do? Slip away right now, all alone?"
"And if you take him with you, what about our mercenaries?"
At Johan's question, the mercenaries floated opinions this way and that. The employer's gone, so we each grab a cut and scatter.No — if that merchant's connections are solid, they'll be nervous about it and come after us.There have to be other merchants in the caravan doing the managing besides him — why not call them in and seize them too? And so on.
Johan listened, then turned to Doris.
"Listen carefully. If you want to keep your life, you'd better be able to do exactly as I say from this moment on."
Gulp—
The sound of Doris swallowing was unusually loud.
"Who's in charge of this caravan?"
"I... I am in charge."
"Any other merchants besides you?"
"There are — there are men I paid to join the caravan, yes, but they're not the ones in charge."
"If you change the caravan's destination, will the rest fall in line?"
"...They'll follow. B-but if we go somewhere too strange, they have eyes too, they'll notice..."
"Don't worry. I've no intention of ruining your trade."
Holding Doris's head in one hand, Johan addressed the mercenaries.
"We're not fleeing with him. If this goes sideways for no reason, we might all have to die alongside this piece of trash."
"Then what...?"
"We make him lead this caravan. Straight on to the Zarfen County, just as we are."
The caravan held a permit from Count Abner, so even if they ran into the count's mercenaries along the way, there'd be no trouble.
Moreover, for the peddlers woven into the caravan, it made no difference whether they sold to Count Abner or Count Zarfen — coin was coin. The only one with a problem was Doris, the man in charge.
Once they reached the county, Johan and the mercenaries could secure Doris's property safely and squeeze out a ransom besides, while the people in the caravan could still do their business — with a different customer, granted. A good arrangement for everyone. Except Doris.
"If — if I'm found trading in the Zarfen County with a permit from Count Abner, I'm a dead man!"
"I know. But Doris — Count Abner is a later problem, and I am a now problem. If you can't manage it, I'll simply take your head, mount a horse, and ride straight out of this caravan."
"...!"
"I'd suffer a bit for it, but you'd lose your life. So do your very best. If your mercenaries lunge at us, if the peddlers grumble and peel off, if anything at all goes wrong — your head comes off. Without exception."
A dizzying rush swept through Doris, followed by a blow that felt like the sky collapsing on him.
How in God's name had it come to this?