Chapter 117 : The Days Toward the Rostingia Marcher Lordship (1)
Chapter 117: The Days Toward the Rostingia Marcher Lordship (1)
“You received an invitation to the capital of the Rostingia Marcher Lordship?”
“Yes. They are holding a banquet, and I was invited. Specifically, they said they would allow me to act as the standard-bearer when we enter the city this time.”
“Nyaaa?! Really?”
At Shatien's words, Branch Manager Marhen’s ears perked up in surprise.
To be appointed as the standard-bearer.
This was an honor that was not easily granted. A stiff, massive flag was a very important object that symbolized the authority of a noble family.
Consequently, there was even a separate official position called the 'Standard-bearer' to manage this flag. Yet they were letting Shatien carry it?
It was the same as saying they would use their own authority to promote Shatien widely.
“Why... is it a big deal?”
“Of course it is! Originally, there is a separate standard-bearer for the Rostingia Marcher Lord. Sir Malacon, 'The Way-Opener.' If Sir Shatien becomes the standard-bearer instead of him, everyone’s eyes will be on you. Especially since that decision came from Viscount Ragnarsson’s direct orders, it will be a very positive gaze.”
‘And likely accompanied by immense interest and courtship,’ Marhen thought, swallowing those words as she spoke primly.
When this green, rookie mercenary first entered the Free City of Loren, Branch Manager Marhen was the only one who recognized his value.
Had everyone not pointed fingers at her, calling it an excessive investment and asking why she showed such favor? But finally, today, Marhen felt as if her choice was being acknowledged by the whole world.
‘Heehee. Back then, he was such a young greenhorn!’
Now, however, his features were quite bold and masculine when she looked at him. It was not bad.
If she just worked a little harder to build their friendship....
“Nyaaaa! No, no. Nyan.”
Marhen shouted for no reason out of embarrassment. To Shatien, it seemed quite sudden.
“Ugh. This is all Sir Shatien’s fault.”
“……?”
Shatien felt wronged, wondering what on earth he had done.
“Nyaha, anyway.... You know, right? That I am Sir Shatien’s very first collaborator.”
“Haha... more accurately, you are the benefactor who helped me and a strategic partner. I haven't forgotten. You are always my top priority, Branch Manager Marhen.”
“Hnng. Good.”
Only then did Marhen perk up her ears and lift her nose as if she had heard the answer she wanted.
Truly.... She wasn't like this at first, but the closer they got, the more airheaded she seemed.
Then, a thought suddenly crossed Shatien's mind, and he asked Marhen.
“By the way.... What is Sir Malacon’s personality like?”
“Sir Malacon, 'The Way-Opener'?”
“Yes.”
If Branch Manager Marhen emphasized it this much, the position of standard-bearer was an incredibly honorable one.
Yet that role was being taken away by an outsider?
‘He might take it as a massive insult.’
Of course, he would have no choice but to follow the command of his lord, Viscount Ragnarsson, but following an order and holding a grudge were two separate matters.
If Sir Malacon was the type to care deeply about such honor, it could be a headache.
“He is a true knight. I know him to always lead by example and uphold the virtues of a knight better than anyone in the Rostingia Marcher Lordship. You know something?”
“Hmm?”
“The reason Sir Malacon got the nickname 'The Way-Opener' was because when everyone else suggested retreating, he alone charged toward the enemy, saying he couldn't flee while leaving the weak behind. And he miraculously succeeded in that charge, saving the Rostingia Marcher Lordship from a crisis. He is a knight to the core. A true knight who lives and dies for honor.”
“Oh boy...?”
Then wouldn't he think his honor had been tarnished?
Shatien’s vision momentarily turned dark after hearing the explanation. Seeing his reaction, Marhen gave a sly smile.
“Hehe. Why are you worrying about that?”
“I have to consider it. How displeased would he be?”
It was like a stray pebble rolling in and knocking out a deeply embedded stone. From the perspective of the one being displaced, it could feel terrible.
“Aww. Sir Malacon is famous for being jovial. He is an incredibly good-natured man. He is more likely the type to be happy that a junior knight with excellent swordsmanship has joined them.”
“Hmm... is that so?”
That sounded somewhat positive. Shatien saw a slight ray of hope. Though that hope was soon extinguished.
“Yes! And anyway, don't knights usually become friends quickly once they share a few strikes? Use this opportunity to go have a duel and discuss the sword. All the Northern knights I know became friends that way!”
“…….”
“Nya? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It's just... I forgot for a moment that you are also a Northerner, Branch Manager Marhen.”
“What does that mean!”
“Ahh. It's nothing.”
Shatien hurriedly got away from Marhen while waving his hand.
As expected... it was difficult to get good social advice from Northern people.
Shatien decided he should at least prepare a high-quality sword to bring along.
‘Well... he's a Northern knight, so he should like that, right?’
He prayed the man was someone he could talk to!
Shatien was anxious again today.
* * *
The important thing in governance was the occupation that followed the victory in war.
Think about it.
Once winners and losers were decided, how many complex interests would be intertwined within that?
No matter how much of a winner one was, they couldn't take everything from the loser. Land was vast and professional personnel to manage it were scarce in this era. Ultimately, to properly stabilize the Hostel region, the rebel nobles had to be embraced to some extent....
“This condition is too harsh! Viscount Norten.”
“Harsh? One does not use the word 'harsh' for such a thing. Do you still dare speak such arrogant words after raising a rebellion against the family? If you are a Northern noble who knows honor, feel grateful that you were spared!”
“B-But our family truly does not have the capacity to pay such a large reparation....”
“You bastards dared to defy the reputation of His Excellency the Marcher Lord of Rostingia. This is a deserved measure. This is carried out by the authority delegated to the legitimate successor, Viscount Ragnarsson, and you have no right to refuse!”
“U-Ugh....”
Viscount Norten was pushing forward with force throughout the entire process.
He demanded harsh punitive reparations and hostages to be sent to the capital of the Rostingia Marcher Lordship from the nobles who participated in the rebellion, and he thoroughly ransacked the villages that joined the rebels as an example.
He even began confiscating the property of some Council members who had surrendered first and opened the way, using various excuses. Consequently, unrest began to smolder in this area once more.
But Viscount Norten did not blink an eye.
They had complaints?
Fine.
Crush them by using Viscount Ragnarsson’s name.
They were organizing resistance?
Fine.
Raise an army in Viscount Ragnarsson’s name and suppress them.
By wrapping himself in the shield of Viscount Ragnarsson, he was showing truly tyrannical movements.
In a way, it was a very ignorant and unrefined way of moving....
“Hmm. As expected, Viscount Norten is indeed a Northerner!”
“Ahaha. I was worried he followed those weak Imperial bastards too much, but I was wrong!!”
“Yes. A Northern warrior should naturally be like that! Viscount Norten is also of the Rostingia Marcher Lord’s bloodline! How jovial!”
This actually worked on the pro-Rostingia Marcher Lordship factions.
To the elven nobles who were fed up with the continuous conciliatory attitudes, showing such 'manly' momentum was a great appeal. They saw Viscount Norten, whom they had thought weak for adopting Imperial culture, as a strong Northern ruler with intense charisma.
“Good. Very good.”
“But.... Father. There are many factions secretly defying us. Have you not built up too much resentment?”
“Resentment?”
Viscount Norten smirked at his son's words.
“Do you think they will hold that resentment against me? All of this was done in Ragnarsson’s name.”
He had not proceeded with the work using Ragnarsson as a front for no reason. Viscount Norten was delicately adjusting everything so that all resentment would be directed toward the Rostingia Marcher Lordship.
“But.... What if they become enraged and go directly to Ragnarsson to appeal their unfairness? Wouldn't your position be in danger? I am afraid Ragnarsson might notice because of this.”
“Notice? He absolutely cannot.”
“Ragnarsson isn't that much of an idiot.”
“It's not that. It's just that it isn't a situation where he can notice.”
“Pardon?”
Viscount Norten clicked his tongue at his son's confused expression.
They had surely heard the same things and received the same reports, yet he wondered why his son's scope of thinking was so narrow.
It was quite frustrating.
But what could he do.
It was the father's role to lead despite the son's shortcomings.
“Ragnarsson has no time to turn his attention outward right now. The Marcher Lord of Rostingia.... my elder brother is truly in critical condition.”
“Ah—?”
“Those fools are going to go and vent their frustrations? Haha. Let them try. I wonder what Ragnarsson, who needs to prepare for what comes next, will think of them.”
His nephew, Ragnarsson, had not declared an end to the war and rushed back to the capital for nothing.
He went up in a hurry because the Marcher Lord of Rostingia was truly critical and he needed to prepare the inheritance procedures.
The inheritance of a noble, especially one of a great noble like the Marcher Lord of Rostingia, was a complex problem intertwined with the interests of various allied families.
It was not something that could be finished easily in a short period.
At least during that time, there would be no interference regardless of what actions he took in this region.
“So don't worry. Time is on our side. You... just keep doing as you are. Continually lower his reputation, and conversely, raise ours. Gather the discontented factions and expand the board. Quietly. And secretly.”
And if that happened.
He would finally be able to rebuild his own family.
“Understood, Father. Just give the order.”
Viscount Norten smiled with a proud expression as he looked at his son, who finally understood everything.
He had taken one step forward.
There were too many steps left to take for his goal.
Therefore, Viscount Norten decided on his next move.
‘Balud!’
The fallen noble who gathered the peasant rebel forces and boldly seized the Emperor’s supply warehouse base.
He decided to utilize that man.
* * *
“Absurd. And impressive.”
News traveled fast.
The old proverb was like the truth.
Eastern Empire.
It did not take long for the news of Holsten City’s fall to reach Balud, who was hunkered down there.
In fact, detailed figures and achievements were passed over blatantly as if they were intended to be publicized.
Consequently, Balud was stunned after hearing the inner story.
“Essentially, it is safe to say that all noble factions in that area have been wiped out?”
“Yes. It is said they have virtually lost control. The rebel factions are collapsing under the remaining Viscount Norten, and it seems difficult to expect support from them, Lord Balud.”
“What a headache. A headache indeed.”
They were allies who weren't particularly helpful, but there was still a big difference between having an ally and not having one.
No one wanted a two-front war.
But now that the noble rebel forces of Holsten City had been cleared out, the Rostingia Marcher Lordship was in a position to pour all their strength into them.
“It would still be too much for us to oppose them, wouldn't it?”
“Yes. We have done a lot of reorganization... but the peasant army system is still lacking.”
Lack of experienced soldiers.
Lack of officers.
Absence of knight-class units.
Morale was high and the numbers were great, but this wouldn't last very long.
Once the stockpiled food was exhausted, they wouldn't be able to maintain the army.
“Then.... That means we must find a new ally no matter what?”
The problem was that finding this ally was not easy.
What crazy great noble would join hands with a peasant rebel army.
But while he was thinking that.
“Lord Balud. An envoy has arrived.”
“An envoy?”
“Yes.”
An unexpected guest had arrived.
“It is an envoy sent by Viscount Norten.”
“???”
And a truly unforeseen one at that.