The First Rule of Negotiation

The price was one thing, but more than that, it simply seemed like the option with the fewest consequences down the road.

Johan had come to understand something while watching the Zarfen and Abner families clash.

If you don't have to make an enemy, don't manufacture an unnecessary grudge.

The Zarfen family had extended their hand first, even from a position of strength. The reason was simple. Unless they intended to escalate into a duel to the death with the Abners, the two families would have to coexist one way or another. That was why Count Abner, however much it gnawed at him, had swallowed his fury and accepted the proposal immediately.

Nobles did sometimes fight each other to the death, but a 'trivial' dispute like this was a different animal. Win or lose, each side had to grant the other a reasonable measure of dignity.

Suppose he handled the job well and won the tax rights. The moment he tried to sell them to someone else, the news would inevitably find its way to Ulrike's ears. And the moment Ulrike grasped the situation, his rage would detonate.

"...Which is why it seems to me the first person you should sell to is Lord Ulrike."

"What kind of lunacy is that?! Why in the world would Ulrike buy it!"

Stephan recoiled in horror. However confident Johan might be, not even force could pry open and rearrange Ulrike's doggedly twisted temperament.

"He'll never buy it!"

"Why not?"

"Because Ulrike hates me, obviously! He'd never even listen to an offer from me."

"Whatever his feelings for you, Lord Ulrike knows how to face reality."

And what's that supposed to imply about me—that I don't?

"Given the choice between watching rights to a territory he could have held in his own hands slip away to a stranger and turn into a tangled mess, or making a concession—he'll make the concession. Am I wrong?"

"Urk."

Stephan couldn't muster a rebuttal. Put that way, it was undeniably true.

"A merchant house might be a different story, but if you sell it off to another lord in the region, Ulrike will find it a considerable headache too."

"Hey, that's pushing it a bit..."

Rotten as he might be, Stephan was still a son of House Abner—and even he balked at that. Some lines apparently weren't meant to be crossed.

"That's how negotiation is done. You understand now? Not that I particularly want to swindle my way into earning a grudge either..."

"S-so are you planning to go negotiate right now?"

"No. This is all predicated on things going smoothly. Trying to negotiate over something that doesn't exist yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would only get me laughed at. In the worst case, it could even be used to obstruct us."

"I see. That's fair..."

Stephan murmured to himself, then looked up at Johan.

"Still, I'm glad to have a knight like you around. The rest of the family's knights I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them."

"I haven't actually said yes yet."

"What?!"

"Bring me a map. I'll decide after I've heard the details."

In the end, Johan accepted Stephan's proposal.

Not a bad territory.

Stephan had called it a small village, but that was by Stephan's standards. By any reasonable measure it ranked among the larger villages—a few hundred residents was enough to put a settlement in the upper tier.

Though these maps really are...

Maps of this era were a disaster. The longer Johan stared at one, the harder it became to tell whether he was reading a map or a child's scribble.

The population records look decent, at least.

His experience managing tax ledgers and household registries alongside Father Valberga was paying dividends here. Stephan had watched him read documents alone, without a scribe or a priest at his elbow, with the open wonder of a man watching a street magician.

If we restore the road, it reconnects the trade routes with the neighboring territories—and above all, Sinang is close by, so... no. I need to stop.

owning so much as a single territory had bred a habit in him: the moment any patch of land looked likely to fall into his hands, his mind started scheming how to develop it. Anything Johan could think of, others had surely already attempted.

What mattered now wasn't the future but the extermination looming directly ahead.

Three extermination attempts so far, all of them failures. The punitive forces weren't wiped out, exactly, but the campaigns dragged on so long that they eventually gave up and withdrew.

It was a common enough story.

If the monsters were culled and the region settled into peace, everyone went home happy. If not, the fighting simply continued, and the employer had no choice but to weigh the ledger. Mercenaries bled money from the moment you signed them.

When there was no telling how long an extermination might take, pouring coin into an open-ended campaign could easily be worse than cutting your losses and walking away.

But Johan wasn't walking away.

It would actually be easier if they'd failed because of one strong monster. This is the worst kind—looks easy and isn't.

Still, he had decided to take it.

The decisive factor was that every last coin would be coming out of Stephan's purse.

Count Abner stared at Johan and Stephan as if he could hardly believe his eyes.

"You said you would honor my pride by granting me a privilege, and yet..."

He had asked for reconciliation in good faith, only to be handed a bizarre scheme by a knight he'd never sanctioned. The Count felt a headache coming on.

No. He's the cause of it, isn't he.

Johan was an outsider. There was no way he had masterminded a plan like this on his own initiative. The culprit was Stephan, beyond any doubt.

A last desperate struggle to avoid being packed off to a monastery!

It was irritating—and pitiful, all at once. And yet he had been his most beloved child, once, in those early years...

"The village of Heincut has seen three failed exterminations. Some of the priests call it cursed ground, it breeds so many monsters. And you mean to tell me you must hire mercenaries and see this done, no matter what?"

"Yes. Trust me with it, my lord. Sir Johan and I are already of one mind."

The Count really does love Stephan.

The affection came through plainly in his next words: Just take whatever coin you have left and disappear into some city, for God's sake. Naturally, Stephan didn't catch it at all.

"You will have no support from the family. If the mercenaries' wages fall into arrears, you will not come to us for help."

"This endeavor is undertaken to exalt my honor! How could I ever reach out my hand to the family!"

Stephan beat his chest and proclaimed it loudly. A knightly sentiment—though not a single soul in the room took it sincerely.

So he finally disappears.

However he does it, so long as he burns the Count's money on his way out the door.

Johan may be a knight of real ability, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Stephan? He'll probably just squander this one too.

"...If any among you wish to accompany this honorable expedition, speak now. I will hear your request."

The Count's words were met with silence. Nobody wanted to get tangled up with Stephan and suffer for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it.

"My lord! Give me and my son this chance!"

"Sir Inno. Has Sir Gerdoth recovered?"

"He was never injured! Given the chance, he will wipe away the disgrace."

"Very well. You have my leave."

'The Butcher' Gerdoth and his father, the knight, had stepped forward. Regardless of Lord Ulrike's watchful eye, they had no choice but to go if they wanted to wash off the dishonor of their last defeat and claw their way back into the Count's favor.

For men with neither land nor family worth the name, the Count was the only thing left to believe in.

The Count really, truly loves Stephan.

Watching him try to smuggle a knight into the expedition to help however he could, Johan clicked his tongue. They called noble rule bloodless and tearless, but men were still men—no one could be that cold all the time.

"With the Butcher, of all people... ngh. I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

"...What nonsense are you spouting now?"

"?"

Nearly two hundred mercenaries had been hired. Given the state of Stephan's purse, it was a foregone conclusion that they would all be profoundly miserable if the extermination wasn't finished within half a year.

Count Zarfen's delegation—especially the knights—openly regretted that they could not join Johan's expedition. It was a testament to the reputation and camaraderie Johan had built among them.

Count Zarfen would surely be understanding, but Johan couldn't keep him waiting forever. For Johan's sake and Stephan's alike, this was a fight with a clock running on it.

"So that's why you summoned me?"

"Yes, Lady Suethelg."

"You value a mage's fee rather cheaply, don't you."

"How could one ever reckon friendship in gold?"

At Johan's smooth-flavored flattery, Suethelg pulled an expression of pure incredulity.

"This monster extermination truly requires the counsel of a veteran like you, Lady Suethelg."

"...I'd like to believe you don't think the secrets of my magic are on par with some hunter's field experience."

If you wanted to know how to run a monster cull, you called a seasoned hunter or a mercenary captain, not an archmage. This was like hauling in a trebuchet to squash goblins.

But Johan asked anyway, unbothered.

"What do you believe is the reason the monsters keep coming?"

"Could be any number of things... a breeding den nobody's found. Goblins and other fast-breeding vermin are the usual suspects there—they hide their dens well. Different circumstances, but ghouls are the same headache if you can't locate the source. The corpses just keep standing back up."

"Ghouls? Under what circumstances do those usually arise?"

"Hm, everyone tells it differently... My own view is that a corpse with powerful grudges, buried improperly, will rise. The priests say it's committing sacrilege that calls them forth... I honestly couldn't say. That's not my field. What else is there. Ah—the clever ones. Some intelligent monsters simply slip away when a punitive force arrives and come creeping back after. Clever beasts, like those wolves you keep, read the presence of men well. The record should note what sort of monsters appeared in those failed attempts. What did it say?"

"Goblins, mostly. Exceptionally cunning ones, apparently—they even used boars."

"Weeds, and yet remarkably gifted in that one respect."

"Come to think of it, you've left out one case, Lady Suethelg."

"?"

"When the mercenaries only pretend to work, report a failed extermination, and pocket the wages. It happens more often than you'd think."

"Judging by the Count, anyone who tried that would die horribly."

"You know him well? Yes. Count Abner is famous for it. He hanged an entire company of mercenary captains, once upon a time."

"......"

Johan reflected that it was a very good thing he'd met Count Abner as a knight, and not as a mercenary.

"Captain, seriously. You're pulling in money like this and you won't even rest? It's nothing but work with you."

"When did I ever tell you to keep working? If you want to rest, go rest."

"And how could I skip out when you're going, Captain?"

The mercenaries grumbled and complained, but their faces were bright as festival lanterns.

Thanks to Gowan and Kahn's gamble, they were holding several years' worth of wages in their fists at once.

When they'd first heard that Gowan and Kahn had wedged themselves into some complicated noble affair, they'd nearly fainted.

Captain, no! Have you lost your mind! Meddling in a mess like that!

Mr. Kahn, why aren't you stopping him?!

Then the rewards arrived once they reached Zarfen County, and the whining turned on its head.

That's our captain for you. A man who leads a mercenary band is built different.

Hehe, I never doubted Mr. Kahn for a second...

The soldiers currently guarding Johan on the extermination force were the very mercenaries hired when they'd left the city. Far more trustworthy than scraping up strangers for the job.

When the extermination contract came up, the decision among them had been unanimous.

Follow this lucky bastard of an employer and earn even bigger!

Gold came rolling in wherever they went—what kind of lunatic steps aside for a little rest? And Gowan's Mercenary Band was no exception.

"Halt! We camp here tonight. Squad leaders, draw lots—one man at a time for the watch!"

"Is that the village? The Heincut one?"

"Looks like it. Grim place."

"Villages where the people are gone are always grim."

The punitive force made camp on a plain some distance from the village. Walking into a settlement seething with monsters was asking to bleed for nothing—and all the more so with the sun about to set.

"Give my son a chance, Sir Stephan."

"...You're asking me to give your son a chance, Sir ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Johan?"

"......"

He had raised the topic himself, of course, but Inno was already regretting bringing Gerdoth along.

A knight that dependable was frankly unfair!