Taken With the Gate
"Seriously ill?"
Misreading Johan's incredulous reaction as something else entirely, the swordsmen hastily added to their report.
"W-well, of course, we know it's an absurd rumor—that a knight like Sir Karamap would be stricken with serious illness. But we're not lying to you, I swear it."
"That's right. Besides, they say Sir Karamap has been cursed..."
"You madman. What nonsense is that about a curse?"
"It's a true curse, I'm telling you. Otherwise why would a perfectly healthy knight collapse in the first place?"
If rumors had spread that Karamap had been struck down by a curse, then the grudges he had accumulated over the years were clearly no small matter.
It made sense, really. When he had crushed the rebellion in the empire's west, he hadn't spared a single thought for clemency—he had simply killed every noble within reach.
Ordinarily, even nobles who raised a banner in revolt were not so easily put to death. Lose the rebellion, and the compromise usually ran to having your territory confiscated or paying reparations—nothing more.
But the Emperor had trusted in his own strength and chosen the hard line, and Karamap had acted precisely as the Emperor wished.
And now the lords of the empire's west were openly taking aim at the Emperor himself.
"What in the hells do you wretches think you're doing! How dare you—!"
A servant who had been working nearby shrieked in alarm. With several dozen armed men climbing to the second floor, the panic was only natural.
"If you want to live, prove your loyalty."
"...Yes, sir."
At Johan's word, the swordsmen led by Gaslo stepped forward, taking up the weapons they had been handed back with conflicted expressions on their faces.
Having switched sides mid-war, they had no choice but to prove themselves properly. Otherwise, they would catch blades from both sides.
"Is the castellan up top?"
"Y-you traitors! You dare betray us! You've let the enemy inside and you think you'll escape unscathed? Not just you—all the rest will answer for this too—!"
Shlak!
For men whose tempers had already worn razor-thin, cutting down a single servant was no effort at all. Blood spattered, and the swordsmen turned their blades on the remaining servants and asked again.
"Is he up there or not?"
"He... he is."
"You heard him. Good. Let's go up."
Screams echoed through the keep. Servants and slaves who understood what was happening began to flee, making straight for the exits the moment they realized vicious enemies had breached the tower.
The mercenaries didn't bother to stop any of them. There was no time to spare for chasing down servants.
"Wait."
"?"
"Grab that one and bring him here."
The mercenaries blinked at the order, but they moved as they were told—the memory of Gerdolf's vicious collar-grabbing from earlier was still fresh in their minds.
"Wh-what are you doing! Please, don't do this!"
"Stop squirming. Unless you'd like something broken."
The mercenaries hauled the fleeing servant to his feet. Ragged, filthy clothes and a dirt-smeared face. Nothing about him seemed particularly unusual.
Did he hide some treasure or something?
But that didn't seem to be it either...
Johan stepped in front of them. Some inexplicable instinct had made him stop the man, and now was the time to find out why.
"...Only one of you has hands that aren't blistered."
"!"
At Johan's words, one of the servants went white as a sheet.
"Wipe his face."
"Run, my lord! Run, you must—"
The mercenary cut the raving man's throat where he stood, then scrubbed roughly at the other servant's face. The swordsmen got a clear look.
"It's the castellan."
The sly-looking middle-aged man stared desperately at Johan.
"Send me away unharmed and I will speak to His Majesty the Emperor on your behalf! I could grant a fief to every single man here!"
Even a mercenary could, in theory, become a lord. It was the stuff of extraordinary luck, granted—but a mercenary who was awarded even a single small village became a legend among his kind.
Yet everyone just snorted. There wasn't a man present fool enough to believe that promise.
Johan's expression didn't change a hair as he called for Gerdolf.
"Gerdolf. Shut him up."
"Wai—"
Gerdolf made the castellan's mouth stop working. The rumors of the Butcher were ones even the castellan had heard, and Gerdolf swung his fist as if to prove every one of them true. Blood spurted, and the castellan went quiet.
"That's enough. We can't kill him. I should take stock of the situation outside. Have the defenders surrounded the inner keep? If so, we might have to hold out here in the tower."
"We don't see any."
"Still on the walls? Good. Let's head for the sally port."
The fog was starting to lift. Johan felt the pressing need to move quickly.
"...?"
But when they emerged outside, the courtyard they found was utterly devoid of any sign of life. Not a single soldier was to be seen anywhere.
"I-is it a trap?"
"Let's make the castellan tell us what he's scheming!"
"It really does look like they've fled, though...?"
Johan checked the gate side instead of the sally port. No soldiers there either. Even for a trap, no one would leave this place completely empty.
"Open the gate first."
"Yes, sir. Should we all..."
"No. I'll open it myself. You lot watch the perimeter."
The winch that raised a castle gate was not ordinarily something one man could work—it took a good dozen soldiers straining together on the mechanism. The mercenaries were about to ask whether a few of them shouldn't lend a hand.
He's a knight. He'll manage.
And Johan really did manage, all by himself.
Once he had opened the castle gate alone, the mercenaries simply ran for it without so much as a flinch of surprise anymore. Only the swordsmen kept staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.
* * *
"So you managed to come to our rescue after all. Braver than I expected."
"W-well, that's me all right."
Stephan nodded along frantically at Johan's remark. Thankfully, it seemed he wouldn't be catching any arrows this time.
"Perfect timing, then. Send the soldiers inside and take the walls first. Don't let your guard down—no telling how many are still in there. And send for reinforcements. We've captured the castellan."
"You captured the castellan?"
"I'm holding him right now, aren't I?"
"......"
Stephan's face went queasy.
That's the castellan?
Having spent his life among nobles who treated their own kind with a certain deference, he couldn't help but be stunned. The man couldn't even lift his head, he'd been beaten so thoroughly.
Does that man have no fear of consequences at all?
"Order the cavalry to round up every fleeing servant and slave they catch. The soldiers we don't need, but those wretches we take, every one of them."
"Understood."
Judging by the castellan, it seemed entirely possible the others might slip out disguised as servants or slaves as well. The castellan was already caught, so what more could they want—but Johan was thorough about precisely these details.
At those words, the castellan twitched. Johan found it odd when the man he'd assumed was unconscious from the beating suddenly flinched.
What's that about?
The messenger soon arrived at Ulrike's camp.
The gate had been opened, the walls seized, and the castellan taken—reinforcements requested. Ulrike was left speechless.
"...Isn't that already a captured castle?"
The knights wore expressions of wholehearted agreement.
When word had come that a few dozen mercenaries would scale the walls, everyone had assumed Johan would quietly open a sally port and summon the soldiers in.
The messenger arriving late was put down to things going sideways somehow—not one among them had imagined that the delay was because Johan had been busy securing the gate, the walls, and the castellan all at once before sending word.
"Give the order. The man took a castle single-handedly; we can hardly be slow about the mop-up."
Somewhere along the way, the fog had completely burned off.
* * *
The situation inside the castle was quickly established. Learning that more than half the garrison had fled, Ulrike let out an empty laugh—then immediately composed her face.
She was feigning cold composure to maintain her dignity before her subordinates, but the satisfaction radiating from her was impossible to hide. For the first time, Johan sensed something genuinely human in that statue-carved face of hers.
"That's rather cute of you."
"Wh... what? Are you insane?"
Stephan, standing beside them, nearly jumped out of his skin. Was he talking about Ulrike just now?
"Everyone has many sides to them, don't they?"
"Ulrike could have a hundred sides and not one of them would be cute!"
"That's enough, so shut it. All the more if you value your life. You can barely afford to grovel before Lady Ulrike as it is—what in the world are you doing stirring up trouble?"
At Johan's rebuke, Stephan snapped back to his senses. The man was right. The only reason Stephan was still breathing was because Johan was in a good mood—not because Stephan was endearing in any way.
"I-I know."
"If you want to live long, keep your head down and read the room. Until you take your money and get out, I'd watch your step even for breathing."
"...Understood."
"What are you two whispering about over there?"
Ulrike asked, with evident curiosity.
"We were discussing how the castle's fall was thanks to Lady Ulrike's brilliant command."
"......"
"......"
The two of the Abner family stared at Johan as if he'd lost his mind. Ulrike recovered first.
"Spare me the jests, Sir. They hardly suit you. I see you brought the castellan out with you—was it really necessary to manhandle him so roughly?"
"He's a man whose death will be cheap anyway."
"Then why not simply kill him? Dragging him out this way must have been a bother."
"I suspected you would want to do it yourself."
At Johan's answer, Ulrike smiled.
"Come stand by my side, Sir. I would have you at my side while I survey the castle."
"As you command."
Watching Johan cut the conversation short and take his place beside Ulrike, Stephan inwardly kicked himself. He shouldn't have stood there gaping—he should have glued himself to her side too.
Disgusting and shameless as it is, I'd best keep my head down until I'm well clear of this place.
"As for you, get lost."
"......"
Stephan meekly removed himself. Cursing Ulrike the whole way, in his heart.
Ulrike ordered her attendant knights to keep a certain distance. It was so she could speak with Johan alone.
"By the way, I hear you sent soldiers out to seize every servant and slave they could find. Why ever did you do that?"
"Seeing the castellan hide himself in disguise, I thought his kin might attempt the same."
"A wasted effort, then. The castellan's kin aren't in this castle."
?
Johan had assumed the castellan had flinched at that order because his own kin were hiding among the servants. Hearing otherwise, he found himself puzzled.
Then what had that reaction been about?
"You have served me far better than I expected, Sir. Not a soul will dare voice a complaint when you are granted your fief."
"When will the army return?"
"The moment the mop-up is finished. There is no reason to linger in a place like this through the winter. We'll leave only a token garrison and withdraw to my territory. As soon as we return, I'll see your fief secured first."
Having watched him take a castle this time, it seemed there was no longer even any need to wait. Not one soul would raise an objection.
"We should prepare for the Emperor's counterattack..."
"If he comes, it won't be any time soon. The distance is far too great—for now you'd do better to worry about your village. Hmm. Even for you, I imagine managing a village directly will be difficult. When we return, I'll introduce you to some men suited to serve as your steward."
The stewards who collected taxes and administered villages were usually drawn from freemen or petty nobility—educated men of common background.
Frankly, knights and nobles alike had neither the ability nor the inclination for such granular governance.
"Thank you."
"Feel free to speak casually with me. The way you do with Stephan."
"...?"
Did she mean he should curse her out and grumble at her?
An arrow would probably come flying at him within the minute if he tried...
"That's quite all right, my lady."
"...As you like."
Just then, a knight returned from scouting and spurred his horse frantically toward the castle gate.
"Lady Ulrike! Lady Ulrike!"
"What is it?"
"The Emperor's army has appeared at Lrwuten!"
Ulrike's expression shifted.
Lrwuten was a city not far from Saint-Darge Castle—ride northeast along the imperial highway, and three or four days would bring you there.
Given Saint-Darge Castle's position wedged among the mountains, that road was the only approach from that direction. The enemy's intent was unmistakable.
* * *
"Karamap, you godforsaken wretch."
"Did you say something, my lord?"
"Nothing at all."
Marquis Crucho waved his adjutant off. It meant: withdraw.
He was one of the Emperor's commanders, yet his situation was far from good. It was precisely because he commanded armies that he understood it better than anyone.
Enemies on every side.
When a house overflowed with gold and its ranks brimmed with soldiers, one could swing an iron fist about freely—but when the debts piled up and the mercenaries began to desert, one had to learn to endure.
The Emperor, however, could not. He had chosen instead to crush the defiant lords by force.
And the present mess is the price of that choice...
Marquis Crucho sighed. It was laughable, really, for the man who had ridden along rather than restraining the Emperor to complain about it now.
When the castellan of Saint-Darge's plea for rescue had arrived, Marquis Crucho had argued forcefully for immediate relief.
"We must relieve Saint-Darge Castle first!"
Should Saint-Darge fall, the western lords would hold a wide-open road into the empire's heartland. Its strategic weight was of an entirely different order than the southern rebellion.
The Emperor, out of sheer pride, had wanted to punish the south first, but the Marquis had argued him down and scraped together the forces he needed.
Saint-Darge is a fortress set in commanding terrain. And its castellan is a cunning man besides. It will not fall easily—so the moment our relief force draws near, the enemy will simply withdraw.