The Price of Fog and Loyalty
Ulrike nodded. Johan had already suspected as much, so the confirmation came as no surprise.
"I have to look out for my own retainers and vassals too. They'll need to earn their share of the glory before I can grant anything. Not that a knight like you would have any trouble with that."
Ulrike traced a finger across the map as she spoke.
"The problem is what comes after. If we're lucky, it ends there and you get your fief. But I doubt it'll be that simple."
"?"
"The Lord of Saint-Darge is the Emperor's vassal. No relief will come right away, but the moment he has a spare breath, he'll send an army."
"Are you prepared for that?"
At Johan's question, Ulrike burst out laughing.
"Of course I am! You think I'd attempt something like this without being ready to pay the price? Besides, the Emperor is already an old lion with most of his teeth knocked out."
The imperial demesne was split three ways — the north, the center, and far to the south, below the Catalia Peninsula.
Combined, it would have been a vast territory, but managing lands scattered that far apart took several times the effort. The mercenaries the Emperor hired at ruinous expense had to be marching day and night without rest.
And on top of that, there were the ambitious prince-electors and lords, the rulers of neighboring kingdoms, the free cities forever trying to slip the Emperor's grasp...
"The Emperor's main army is currently tied down in the south."
He had lashed out brutally to warn the southern lords against their restive stirrings, and it had backfired spectacularly.
Several nobles had been executed without trial, and when the Emperor brazened it out and disclaimed all responsibility, the southern lords — enraged by this crude act without custom or precedent — rose in revolt.
The panicked Emperor tried everything to smooth things over diplomatically, but the lords answered by cutting off their envoy's head and sending it back.
Only war remained.
"What matters is that the Emperor has no leisure to concern himself with this place. And by the time he does, this will all be finished. After that, he can send an army or not, as he pleases — support will already be on its way."
"Support, you say..."
"You didn't notice? King Erance is backing me."
Johan had heard as much from Swetelg, so he wasn't particularly shocked. Truthfully, he'd have been more surprised if she had attempted all this without such backing.
"So you knew. Cardirian II is dying, so a gesture like this support is only natural."
"?"
"Why the surprise? Well, I suppose it isn't common knowledge... but if you're going to become a lord, you'll need to pay attention to politics like this."
Cardirian II was old and plagued by chronic illness. Not even his most loyal ministers expected him to live long.
A few years at most.
When the Emperor died, the assembly of prince-electors would convene to choose his successor.
There was no chance that House Cardirian — up to its ears in debt from a war that had yielded nothing — would win the next vote. Under the circumstances, the Emperor's scheme was obvious.
Somehow, by any means, pass the crown to my eldest son without an election!
And of course, the prince-electors had absolutely no intention of standing by and watching it happen.
If the Emperor tramples custom and law, then we will act by force!
"Does King Erance want the imperial crown for herself?"
"Not for herself, certainly — she'll likely push her brother or a cousin onto the throne. Anyway... you've heard all this, and you're still not backing out, are you?"
"I accept."
At Johan's answer, Ulrike froze for an instant, then her face lit up. She had privately feared he might refuse.
"You mean it?"
"Did you expect me to refuse? What reason is there to turn down an offer like this?"
"How would I know? Knights who do all manner of foolish things for the sake of honor are hard to fathom."
"I told you, it's not about honor... Anyway, show me the fief I'll be receiving, will you?"
"You'd probably be granted the rank of lord or baron. Two or three villages, including Heinkut. I'm thinking of this area here..."
Johan nodded, studying the spot Ulrike pointed out. It wasn't bad. Not golden land by any means, but hardly trash either.
Still, a small village really does have its limits.
Johan understood anew why Gesen roamed the way he did.
A small fief could only be squeezed so dry. What little it produced could barely feed and clothe his men.
By contrast, one decent raid in a war — one good hostage taken — could yield tens or hundreds of times that income. No wonder Gesen had gone half-mad wandering the roads.
Which means I'm fated to keep drifting from battlefield to battlefield too...
His thoughts tangling, Johan shook his head. He needed to focus on the problem in front of him first.
If he failed to distinguish himself in the battles ahead, even that little fief would slip through his fingers.
When the ambush — dishonor itself — ended in failure, the Lord of Saint-Darge sent another envoy.
The message was that the attack had been the unauthorized doing of his subordinates; that he offered his sincere apologies for it; and that if mercy were shown, God's blessing would follow.
Duke Ulrike answered by cutting the envoy down where he stood.
"Send it."
And an arrow bearing a letter soared up over the walls.
"What did it say?"
"That if they open the gates and crawl out now, I'll promise them a painless death."
"How merciful."
The Lord of Saint-Darge was evidently moved by that mercy as well, for he promptly manned the walls and readied for battle.
But the situation here was different from Count Zarfen's territory. Fatigue and hunger were written plainly on the soldiers' faces.
"Spare us, my lord Duke! Spare our lives, only our lives!"
"The castellan ordered it — we had no choice!"
The men who had been caught in the failed ambush were dragged forward.
Minor nobles and mercenaries, they all had a fair inkling of what was about to happen to them.
Terrible screams rang out in every direction.
Those sounds let everyone inside the castle glimpse their own fate.
Under ordinary circumstances, surrender would have spared their lives — but this time was different.
Having violated the customs of surrender and attempted an ambush, they had no grounds for complaint whether noble or commoner — all could be put to the sword.
And Ulrike burned like a lit pyre with the will to kill every last one of them.
"Was the conversation productive?"
"Very. He promised me a fief."
"I thought as much. You're worth the trouble."
Swetelg wasn't surprised. Johan was still young and green, but everything he'd shown so far was more than enough to earn the nobles' attention.
And Ulrike had seen it with her own eyes, at that...
"It seemed promising, so I accepted..."
"Good work. Nothing wrong with that."
Swetelg personally disliked entangling himself with the nobility, but Johan was a different case. A knight hoping to become a lord had to seize whatever line of patronage he could climb.
And Ulrike was as good a line as any.
"I confess I hesitated a little — it felt like barging into a game King Erance started out of her own ambition."
"Where in all the world can you find a game the nobles haven't started out of ambition? What matters is which side you stand on. The imperial west will fall under King Erance's influence whether anyone likes it or not, so getting ahead of the crowd isn't a bad move. And if the tide turns against you? So what. Switch sides."
"Is that... allowed?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
Nobles trading sides was hardly a rarity. All it took was a passable pretext — and for a young, unconnected knight like Johan, less than that.
"The other side would welcome a man of your caliber with open arms. Don't waste time fretting over it. Right now you ought to be thinking about how to win your glory. Given it any thought?"
"If I had a good idea, I'd have acted on it already."
Johan wasn't the only one stumped. Ulrike's knights were in the same boat. They had thundered their threats with great bravado, but no actual assault followed.
Ulrike knew all too well that hurling soldiers at even that small castle without proper preparation would mean heavy losses.
The most common — and most effective — method of siege was to encircle the enemy and let them collapse from within.
"The number of men you executed earlier seemed a bit thin. Saving some for later, are you?"
"Yes."
"Sound enough, but I'm not sure it's strong medicine to break them. At this rate, who knows when they'll crack."
Swetelg let out a long breath. It was growing colder by the day. The men inside the walls were shivering, but the ones outside would have it harder still.
"About that."
"...And what is that scheming look supposed to mean?"
"You said you owed me a debt, didn't you?"
"I... what?"
Swetelg was dumbfounded. Yes, he owed him one — but he hadn't expected to be dunned for it on the spot.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"I heard you summoned fog during the last campaign. Can you still do it?"
"Ngh... I can. But the river's far off, so I'll need preparations, and it'll take some time."
"That it's possible is all I need."
"You mean to launch a raid under cover of the fog? Not a bad notion, but the enemy's no fools either. The moment the fog rolls in, they'll know a full assault is coming."
Fog made it easy for attackers to close to the base of the walls — but at the same time, it gave the defenders fair warning.
Moreover, pouring a disciplined, ordered assault into that murk was beyond anyone but the most elite troops.
"Ah, but that's fine."
"?"
"I have no intention of a full assault. I don't hold command in the first place. If it comes to it, I'll pick a dozen or so men and go in for a strike."
"...Where?"
Johan pointed at the walls. Swetelg's jaw dropped. However thin the garrison's numbers, who would conceive of that?
Was it courage, or madness?
"You mean to climb the walls under cover of the fog?"
"We'd be so few, how would they spot us?"
"They wouldn't. What they'd do instead is give you a very warm welcome at the top of the wall."
"The soldiers standing up there look exhausted and terrified. They're hardly elite, and in that state they'll break and run at the first push."
"......"
Swetelg's face clouded with thought. He had no wish to spend his precious magic only to get a young knight killed.
Even if a dozen men made it over, could they really drive the defenders off the wall and shake the castle to its core?
"Well... I suppose your neck is your own to save. Worst comes to worst, you could always bring the wall down and crawl back out."
"What kind of nonsense is that?"
Johan had no intention of summoning the fog just once. It would have to come and go for days on end.
At first, the sight of it would put the defenders on edge.
But if days passed with fog thick and thin and nothing happened?
They were only human. The tension was bound to fray.
"So what you're telling me is, the fog has to roll in and out for days on end..."
Swetelg groaned under his breath. This knight who didn't know the first thing about his magic was scheming to work him to the bone.
Still, as tricks went, this was a better use than a single summoning. The enemy would let their guard down.
The problem lay not with Swetelg but with the other knights. Even after hearing Johan's plan, not one of them volunteered.
"Anyone care to come with me and cut those bastards down?"
"......"
"......"
The knights held their silence.
It wasn't that they looked askance at Johan as an outsider, or meant to snub him.
It was that his plan struck them as sheer lunacy.
Imperial knights coveted honor and glory as much as anyone — but none of them was eager to march openly into the jaws of death.
"If no one steps forward, I'll simply have to go alone."
"Not alone. I will attend you, my lord knight."
Gerdolf said it as if wondering what the fuss was about.
Sir Inno nearly had a fit.
Where in God's name do you think you're tagging along?
"What are you saying? That place is not one you may presume to join. Understand it was a mistake, and retract it at once."
"I'm going with him."
Gerdolf didn't so much as pretend to have heard his father.
Sir Inno could only gape, at a loss for how to respond.
"Much obliged, Sir Gerdolf."
"Have the other knights no courage? Are you telling me that of all the men under my command, the only one with any spine is Sir Johan?"
Ulrike baited them thus, but the knights held out bravely. She turned to Johan.
"Why not take Stefan along?"
"I'd sooner fight with one hand tied behind my back."
The question of company, however, resolved itself with surprising ease.
The mercenaries Johan had brought with him, hearing the news, volunteered in force.
The mercenaries already in Ulrike's service clicked their tongues at the recklessness of it.
"No matter how good the gold is, what use is money when you're dead? Don't do something insane."
"I've never seen a man who fights without looking ahead or behind live long. Give it up while you can. Even the lord knights are steering clear of this one."
But the mercenaries who followed Johan only scoffed.
"That's because you lot have never seen how our employer fights."