A Question of Honor
While Doris despaired, Johan moved without hesitation.
There was still work to be done before he could lead this caravan to its destination.
"Bring them to me."
"Yes."
The mercenary captains of the hundred-man companies and the veteran guards were still struggling to grasp the situation. Unlike the freshly hired mercenaries beneath them, these men had a direct relationship with their employer. Left unchecked, they might act on their own initiative.
"You called for me, so what's the... gack."
"I saw your summons and came right... urk."
Each time one of them stepped into the tent, Johan swung his club without mercy and knocked the man cold. Evidently none of them had imagined that a knight might have caught on first and taken Doris hostage.
"Tie them up and throw them inside. If they try anything clever, you have my permission to kill them. Doris. Are you ready?"
"...Yes..."
The midnight ambush ended surprisingly quietly.
The only real change was that the mercenaries guarding Doris had been replaced by a new knight and his men, who now hovered at his side without leaving so much as a finger's width of space.
The sharper merchants among the caravan noticed that a few of the mercenaries had vanished — but, being the sharp merchants they were, they kept their mouths firmly shut.
The brave mercenaries hired before departure also noticed that the captain who'd paid them was nowhere to be seen — but, being the brave mercenaries they were, they kept their mouths firmly shut.
And one more thing.
"Well, this is unexpected..."
Johan clicked his tongue.
As it turned out, Doris and Johan shared the same destination.
Strictly speaking, not quite. Johan's destination was Boson Castle, where the Count resided within the County of Zarfen...
while Doris was headed for the army of Count Abner, which lay besieging that very castle.
"So they really are besieging it?"
"Yes..."
"Sir Knight. He may be lying. Perhaps we should interrogate him further—"
"That's enough. Think about it — a caravan this size is obviously bound for some army that's encamped somewhere."
Johan had planned to lead the caravan into the county at his leisure, meet the Count, and be done with it. Instead, he was about to run headlong into Count Abner's army first.
He could feel things growing steadily more complicated.
Difficulty level's rising...
To think that answering a single invitation from Count Zarfen would lead to all this. Truthfully, he could have spared himself all this trouble by swallowing his pride and backing out — but now that things had come this far, retreat was out of the question.
He would extract something from this, whatever it took.
"S-Sir Knight. If you stop here, I swear to God I won't seek revenge—"
"You were planning revenge?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant—"
Before Johan could say a word, the mercenaries silenced Doris with a gag. Bound and muzzled, Doris let out a soundless scream.
More than a thousand men were stationed around Boson Castle. Not all of them, of course, were well-armed heavy infantry — if they had been, Count Abner would have gone bankrupt long ago.
Heavy infantry numbered somewhere between two and three hundred. The rest were scraped-together mercenaries, hastily conscripted serfs, and assorted non-combatants. Even so, it was a colossal force...
utterly insufficient for taking a prepared castle.
Then again, in this era, taking a prepared castle at all was nearly impossible.
Defense held an overwhelming advantage over assault. The easiest and best option available to an attacker was the siege: seize the surrounding villages and farmland, encircle the castle, and simply wait — praying all the while for the enemy to collapse from within.
It was absurd, but it was the most realistic method there was.
And if the enemy still refused to crumble?
Then it was the attacker who broke first.
"I hear that deserter from last night wasn't the only one. What in blazes are you all doing!"
A young nobleman was storming around inside his tent. This was Stefan, the third son of Count Abner.
In an empire where the eldest inherited everything, the younger children had to find their own way in the world. Cases like Johan's — simply abandoned — were actually the minority; most families found some path for their spares. In Stefan's case, his father's solution had been to grant him a knighthood and ship him off with the army.
The problem was that Stefan had never actually trained as a knight.
Hold a dubbing ceremony without any real training, tell the man "you're a knight now," and no martial talent will magically sprout from nowhere.
The ones who suffered were those beneath him.
"Our apologies, my lord."
"Apologies are useless now! Take that castle — today!"
The knights and mercenary captains looked grim.
Count Zarfen had handled things with a wisdom that bordered on infuriating. Rather than picking a vain fight over pride outside the walls, he had gathered up every scrap of provisions in the area and sealed himself inside the castle with his elite troops.
The moat was deep, the walls thick, the stores plentiful — and the soldiers manning the ramparts were well-trained professionals.
Try a head-on assault here and they would simply bleed to death.
More deserters will keep coming. There won't be fewer, that's certain.
To pay the soldiers' wages, someone would have to capture the castle or seize the Count and shake the money out of him. In this situation, there was simply nowhere for coin to come from.
The heavy infantry were being paid ahead of the rest, but left as things were, arrears were only a matter of time.
"My lord! The chief merchants have arrived. A merchant requests an audience to pay his respects!"
"Ohh, excellent! Send him in!"
Color returned to Stefan's face. Everyone else's too — welcome news amid the suffocating stalemate.
When fresh merchants arrived at a siege camp, morale always rose. Wages and whatnot could wait — feed a man, let him drink and enjoy himself, and his complaints melted away.
Bonus: it applied psychological pressure to the people inside the castle.
"Leave your weapons behind and enter."
"I didn't bring any to begin with."
Johan submitted to the search with an air of go right ahead. Sure enough, he carried nothing remotely resembling a weapon, and the guards nodded in satisfaction.
"Inside, then. And don't forget to mind your manners in the presence of the commander."
"Y-yes, of course."
If the guard had been slightly more observant, he might have noticed how unusually gaunt Doris had become. But he wasn't.
Wh-what in the world is he planning?
Doris stared at Johan, trembling inside. He had no idea what Johan intended. He knew only one thing for certain:
If whatever Johan was plotting failed, there was a very good chance Doris would die alongside him.
O God, please... if I make it back, I will offer You a third of this venture's profit. No — a quarter!
"I-it is an honor to meet you, Lord Stefan."
"Yes, yes. And what business brings you before me?"
Stefan regarded Doris with an expression full of expectation. When the head of the chief merchants asks to meet the commander, both sides already know what's coming.
The appropriate bribe. And the usual courtesies.
"Well, you see, the thing is—"
"Forgive me, but allow me to speak first. I am Johan of House Eitz."
"?"
Stefan's face creased into a scowl. It irritated him that a knight of some unheard-of house would suddenly butt in.
"And? Hoping to earn a deed or two under my command? I don't take just anyone into my service."
"I did not come here to ask for a place. I was traveling to the Count of Zarfen's domain, having accepted his invitation — for answering a nobleman's honorable summons is a knight's duty. But this merchant here attempted to ambush me."
"......"
Stefan had no idea what he was hearing, but the other knights and mercenary captains nearby understood immediately.
That blithering idiot...
If you're going to ambush someone, either hold on to him properly or don't get grabbed in return. Who the hell issued a permit to a fool like that?
Holding the man hostage, you could insist until doomsday that you served under Count Zarfen. But getting ambushed and captured in return? There was nothing to say for yourself.
"I have taken this merchant captive, and by God's sanction I have acquired a lawful right to all he possessed. I therefore request your permission to enter the Count of Zarfen's castle carrying this man's goods."
Absolutely not.
One of the mercenary captains conveyed the sentiment with his eyes alone. Never mind how large Doris's stockpile was — sending supplies into the very castle they were besieging? Was anyone seriously proposing this?
"Denied. We are at war. I cannot permit goods to reach the enemy."
"Understood. Then purchase the goods from me — my rightful share. I will enter to meet the Count of Zarfen empty-handed."
That, at least, was a proposal they could accept. They were laying siege, yes, but this wasn't a duel to the death with the Count; the whole point of the campaign was to force his surrender and collect a ransom. One knight going in for a meeting was no real problem.
The problem was—
Denied.
—their own finances. They were so starved for coin that they ought to be squeezing money out of Doris, and this man wanted them to pay for goods?
"Denied. Our weaknesses could leak to Count Zarfen."
"If that too is refused, I will return home with the goods."
"No. Absolutely not. And in the first place, I see no reason to believe your story about the merchant ambushing you. Who's to say you didn't attack and capture him?"
As he spoke, Stefan glanced at Doris — a signal to open his mouth. If Doris insisted right now that he'd been the victim, Johan would be cornered.
But Doris said nothing at all.
That gutless little turd?
To think a merchant could be such a fool. What Stefan failed to grasp was that Doris wasn't being stupid — he was so terrified that his brain had simply stopped working.
"On my honor as a knight and by God's own name, I have spoken no falsehood. Are you telling me, my lord, that you trust the word of a mere merchant over a knight's?"
"That merchant holds a trade license from Count Abner — an honorable, licensed trader. Whereas you are a knight whose name I've never once heard. I cannot trust your word. When this war is over, come to Count Abner's domain and file your grievance. If you wish, I will grant you trial by your knighthood. Until then, the goods and the merchant stay with us. You have one day. Withdraw from the camp."
At Stefan's words, the mercenary captains and knights nodded.
Well handled — better than they'd feared.
He'd given the naive knight a way out. Wronged or furious as he might be, the man would have no choice but to walk out empty-handed.
Even if he later went to Count Abner's domain demanding a trial, an unknown knight like him had no chance of winning there.
"You have insulted my honor, my lord."
"Mind your tongue. Your honor and mine are not the same thing — and my decision outranks your honor regardless. Be grateful I respect your honor enough to let you keep your life."
Johan raised his head. The entire purpose of this tedious exchange had been to build his case.
If he had simply launched a night raid on Stefan without warning, he would have been nothing but a brigand knight. But by asserting his lawful rights and stacking up his justification like this, the story changed entirely. Every person in this tent already believed, in their heart of hearts, that Johan was in the right. They simply refused to acknowledge it for the sake of practical gain.
Crack!
"Wha—?"
Johan hurled Doris to his left, then seized the nearest mercenary captain on his right, hoisted him upside down, and swung him like a flail. The sweep of that enormous body turned everything nearby into a shambles.
"Wh-what in God's name—!"
One of the aghast knights drew his sword. Unlike the mercenary captains, knights were permitted to wear steel even inside the tent. Johan did not hesitate — he swung the mercenary captain.
THUD!
The knight couldn't bring himself to run the man through, and took the blow full in the face instead. Wheeling the mercenary captain around like a windmill, Johan carved a path through the tent. Stefan, whose only hope had been to run, stood rooted to the spot, drained of all color, staring at Johan with sword in hand.
"Protect the lord! Now!"
Only then did a knight understand what Johan was after, and screamed — but Johan had already hurled the mercenary captain aside and closed the distance to Stefan. Stefan swung his sword; Johan turned his head aside to dodge, caught Stefan by the throat, twisted his wrist, and stripped the blade from his grip.
"Say it again, my lord. What was that about my honor?"