From Mercenary to King

Chapter 119: The Days Toward the Rostingia Marcher Lordship (3)

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"Slowly! Go slowly!"

A total of ten wagons, comprising two hundred mercenaries, fifty members of the merchant group, and various supply goods, departed from Holsten Castle.

As a single unit, it was a formidable size for the vicinity, but they could not afford to be careless.

The region ahead was a vast grassland, and every outpost was still swarming with remnants of defeated armies and groups of mercenary bandits who had not been paid.

The lords who were supposed to clear them out were instead overwhelmed and occupied only with defending themselves inside their castles, making the Northern roads the epitome of chaos and confusion.

"Our destination is Friesland City. It is a very prosperous land belonging to the lowlands."

"Friesland... Is that perhaps the famous land of the free people? Surely?"

"Oh! You knew about it?"

Friesland, the land of the free people.

Originally a territory belonging to the Bishopric of Bremen, most of it was swampland that escaped the Bishop's rule. It was a special zone for free people operated by the voluntary governance of the Northern traditional people's assemblies.

The Bishop of Bremen had sent armies several times to control them, but Friesland, which had eventually built massive walls, had become a powerful free city force capable of easily defending against such attacks.

"Though they were born as free peasants, the power of the merchant guilds is quite significant there. For external trade, they own large estates to produce and distribute high quality wheat, and within the city, various artisan guilds are formed, creating a class of guild-centered city nobles."

"Hmm. Does it belong to our merchant group?"

"That is correct. It is a free city belonging to our guild."

There was a reason they were heading there to reconstruct the commercial network.

"Then our mission for now is to supply these trade goods to Friesland?"

"Yes. At the same time, we must restore the ruined trade routes. From what I know, the entire area leading there is occupied by bandits and rebel remnants."

"Hmm...."

This meant combat was unavoidable.

Shatien had hoped for an easy journey, so he felt a bit disappointed.

"I understand. Then we will move with the expectation of combat if necessary. Let us send a messenger ahead immediately. Gathering information is vital."

"Thank you, Sir Shatien."

After hearing the plan from Branch Manager Marhen, Shatien immediately ordered men to gather intelligence.

The war was over, but the cleanup had not yet been finalized. Public security in this area was excessively poor.

Furthermore, in typical circumstances, the period after a war was more dangerous than the war itself.

During a war, there was at least some control in the name of discipline. Even if soldiers did not receive pay or supplies, the special nature of being at war could suppress their violent tendencies to an extent.

But what happened when the war ended?

No one had the obligation to maintain the hired armies and mercenaries anymore.

Moreover, there was no responsibility for back pay or supplies. Unless a noble was completely insane, they would provide some compensation, but nobles were inherently shameless.

They took the debts borrowed from merchants for granted and enjoyed neglecting them without repayment.

If it was like this for merchants, how would it be for ordinary soldiers or mercenaries?

"Hmm. Shatien. This is more serious than I thought."

Miles spoke with a hardened face after hearing the intelligence.

It was not just Miles. Centurion Jenga also had a grim expression.

"The scale of the remnants in this area is quite large. The groups gathered for looting are bigger than expected. It seems to be because this is a key transportation route."

The Rostingia Marcher Lordship was a very wealthy land. To the left was the Kingdom of Ellang, which boasted vast granaries, and to the northwest was the fertile lowland region known for its rich produce. To the north, it was a relay intersection between the Holy Empire and the Kingdom of the Danes.

As a core hub where products from each region connected, it had become infested with defeated soldiers and starving mercenaries who had not been paid following the end of the Northern war.

"But we came here to secure the trade route. There is no turning back. We must push straight through."

"Oh, boy."

"I should tell everyone not to let their guard down beforehand."

Miles and Centurion Jenga sighed once again. The number of defeated soldiers reported was quite alarming.

Most would not attack if they saw a regular mercenary unit of two hundred men.

Unless they were insane.

But the problem was the ten wagons of incredibly valuable supplies trailing behind them.

'Hmm... sometimes people lose their minds.'

Especially those starving because they had not been paid would surely be desperate. Would they think about the consequences when massive amounts of gold were shimmering before their eyes? Instead, they might be thinking of gathering all the nearby forces to make a big score.

"Aww. Still, surely they would recognize us?"

"That is right! Are we not the famous Black Ravens Mercenary Company! Hahaha. Do not worry too much, Shatien!"

Miles and Centurion Jenga shouted gallantly to lift the mood.

They hoped the reputation they had built up would help them avoid unnecessary combat.

Unless they were insane.

But as expected....

"Stop!!"

The world was truly unpredictable. Madmen willing to throw away their precious lives for a pittance always appeared.

* * *

In truth, it was not as if he had never seen mercenaries with greed in their eyes.

Most of them would be surprised by the size of the escort or the flag of the Black Ravens Mercenary Company, then bow their heads and quietly retreat.

But today was a bit different.

In the eyes staring at them, a dark greed pulled from deep within was flickering.

"What on earth is going on?"

"It seems we have uninvited guests. Please stay back, Branch Manager Marhen. I will handle this."

"Hmm... you must be careful."

"Naturally."

Shatien shrugged his shoulders and immediately rode forward.

There, a mercenary who had occupied the middle of the road at the entrance to the forest path was standing with a single sheet of parchment that was hard to see from a distance.

The mercenary, armed in fairly decent armor, shoved the faded parchment forward and shouted at Shatien.

"This is the territory ruled by Count Joberham, the legitimate ruler whose reign is recognized by God. We have been delegated the right to rule this forest, and by the authority granted by Count Joberham, we shall collect a toll from you! Submit to the inspection! We shall collect 20% according to general custom."

"Count Joberham? Delegation? Can you prove that?"

"Yes! Look! Here! It is all written here. And look at this flag. It is the family flag personally bestowed by His Excellency Count Joberham! Do you dare doubt it even after seeing this!"

The man shouted pompously, but Shatien snorted.

To anyone's eyes, the faded parchment looked like it had nothing written on it, and the flag they claimed to have received from Count Joberham was so ragged it was hard to recognize its shape, as if it had been picked up from somewhere in a hurry.

-It looks like a group of defeated soldiers just brought whatever they could find to make a claim.

-But what if it is real? Isn't it possible that something is really written on that parchment?

-It is so faded the letters cannot even be read. If it were real, they would have maintained it in better condition.

-Then what?

-What else. We cannot be dragged around as they wish.

He did not know if the authority over this area really belonged to those mercenaries, but it was true that this region was Count Joberham's domain. Therefore, there was at least a need to be cautious.

No matter how much they were under the authorization of Viscount Ragnarsson, each fief was the unique authority of the owning family.

"I am the knight Shatien. We are the Black Ravens Mercenary Company, hired at the request of Viscount Ragnarsson, the legitimate heir of His Excellency the Marcher Lord of Rostingia. Since we are moving under the orders of Viscount Ragnarsson, who is the superior of your employer Count Joberham, such a requisition cannot be tolerated."

"Do you dare threaten the Count in the name of a mere Viscount right now?"

The mercenary growled and made a gesture. Then, with the sound of clashing metal, people began to spring out from the bushes in droves. There were at least several hundred people visible to the left and right.

Only then did Shatien realize.

These bastards had prepared properly one way or another. And at the same time, he realized they had nothing to do with Count Joberham.

A "mere" Viscount.

It was the kind of thing only a lowlife who knew nothing of noble ranks would say.

A Viscount was like a temporary title given to the heirs of high ranking nobles.

Viscount Ragnarsson was a Viscount in name, but he was the successor who inherited the full authority of the Marcher Lord of Rostingia. Naturally, Count Joberham, a feudal vassal under him, had to be a subordinate to Viscount Ragnarsson.

But they did not know this?

"Miles!"

"?!?!?!"

"Hahaha! Yes. I was waiting for this!!"

There was only one conclusion.

They were frauds.

And their delegated authority was a lie.

"Dieeeee, you bastards!"

Miles, who had been waiting for Shatien's command, immediately swung his halberd and charged.

"W-Whaaat!"

"Shit! Fire! Fire! What are you doing!"

The mercenaries who looked like hunters hurriedly fired their bows late in the game, but it was useless.

-Thwack. Thwack.

-Tick. Tick.

Miles was dressed in a thick gambeson covered with high quality chainmail, with steel plates attached to various parts, so he was now essentially armed like a knight.

There was no way he would take damage from an arrow attack made with a crude wooden bow.

-Thud. Crash.

-Crunch.

-Crack!

Miles, who pushed straight in, swung his halberd like a rotating windmill and slaughtered the bodies of the stunned mercenaries.

In an instant, three of them collapsed while spraying blood.

-Thud!

"Everyone else, charge! Do not just stand there! We finish them like this."

Shatien shouted and immediately picked up a spear.

The high quality spear he had recently acquired sparkled sharply in the sunlight.

Normally, he would have used a sword, but today was different.

Primal fear.

In order to pull up the fear engraved in mercenaries, it was better to move like a knight.

"B-Block... ack!"

-Thud!

And the first target was the mercenary at the very front who had been flapping his mouth.

The mercenary, who had been arrogantly showing off while trusting his decent equipment, had his body pierced by the spear Shatien threw before he could even react.

"C-Crazy...!"

"Hollando was taken out in one hit?!"

The mercenaries standing in the same rank were startled and spat out curses. The shock was greater because Hollando was famous among them for having skill on par with a knight.

But that was their fatal mistake.

-Neighhhhhhh!

For Shatien, who read the flow through the Mystery, such a small agitation was a gap that could not be missed.

-Slide.

-Flash!

In a split second, the horse carrying Shatien charged in front of them.

The bastards who finally came to their senses and tried to meet him with spears were too late.

The swung sword sprayed blood in an instant. The front line collapsed... and the slaughter began.