A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

"Marquis, I’ll try to go slowly so you can savor the full experience of the pain. I’m going to tear out all of your ribs. But don’t you worry. Usually, you’ll just faint from the pain. You won’t die right away."

"You fiend! How dare you treat an anointed and lawful Marquis this way!"

Fear drove Marquis Azo to struggle instinctively, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Eric didn’t stop him. He let Marquis Azo break free easily, for he had already achieved the desired effect.

"A Marquis? Really? All I see is a heretic who murdered the devout Elrond.

You knew he was a dear friend to the Holy See, its agent, yet you still ran rampant, scorning the authority of the Holy See.

A year ago, you claimed to support the Holy See, and now you’ve sided with the Emperor.

You knew it was wrong, yet you did it anyway. That makes you more detestable than any common villain.

You’re drowning in debt and have bled your subjects dry. The Patulin Sect’s uprising was merely an omen; your destruction has long been ordained by God.

I tell you, you will be excommunicated! And any action taken against an excommunicated ruler is both just and lawful.

As Paul said, hand the body of the faithless over to Satan, that he may destroy the flesh, so the soul may be saved on the day of the Lord Jesus."

"It wasn’t me who killed Elrond! It was those Patulin thugs you call so devout! What has that got to do with me?"

"Really? And does that matter? You won’t live to see the Holy See. I’m telling you, the Holy See is in Canossa right now, and he will only hear your side of the story from my lips.

Or were you hoping those Patulin mobs would go before the Holy See themselves to clear your name?

Don’t make me laugh. Even if they did, the Holy See would simply assume they were coerced. Everyone knows the Holy See stands with the Patulin Sect. He isn’t foolish enough to let the Patulins become a stain on his claim to the Seat of St. Peter.

So, the sacrificial lamb can only be some unlucky Marquis who happened to die in Milan.

It can’t be helped. After all, the dead are far more useful than the living.

People will only remember a tyrannical marquis who was excommunicated for treachery, then had the misfortune of dying in a riot during the siege." Eric patted Marquis Azo’s old face and smiled.

"Don’t you try to threaten me with Hilbrand! Boy, Hilbrand can’t even save himself! When the Emperor’s army crosses the Alps, he’ll be deposed and a new Pope installed, just like his father did before him.

Who’s going to care about an excommunication from a deposed Pope? When that time comes, the ones being excommunicated will be you lawless Normans!" Marquis Azo yelled.

"True, but that’s assuming your precious Emperor actually wins. As far as I know, his situation isn’t exactly ideal right now. He just lost a battle in Saxony. His Franconian army was wiped out—by a bunch of Saxon peasants, no less.

How many more troops can he possibly muster?" Eric said.

"Are you suggesting you’ll be the final victor? What do you have? What does Hilbrand have? And what does the Emperor have?" Marquis Azo said with disdain.

Although he was shocked by the news, he maintained a facade of sneering arrogance.

"I’m merely offering you another option. You, Marquis of Milan, have no need to bet everything you own on him.

We have no intention of making things difficult for you. We have more important things to do than torment a man in his seventies or eighties.

For us Normans, our interests always come first. Not violence.

We aren’t like the common Franks. They’re like those Teutons you speak of, always blathering on about the honor of the nobility. Normans don’t care much for such things."

Hearing Eric’s words, Marquis Azo breathed a small sigh of relief, though he didn’t let it show. He stood up and huffed, "I fail to see what common interests we could possibly share."

"All you want is for the Milan Marquisate to pass smoothly to your son.

I can promise you that if we win the war against the Emperor, your son will still inherit this Marquisate. At that time, we will relinquish our control over Milan City.

Until our confrontation with the Emperor, we will publicly declare that you have been taken hostage by us, with the help of the remaining forces of the Patulin Sect.

We will take you to Canossa, where the Holy See is currently residing, to make your capture more believable. This will also prevent your subordinate, Baron Turin, from attacking us."

"And the price?" Marquis Azo asked.

"We need you to sign a land transfer agreement." A Knight behind Eric handed a sheet of parchment to Marquis Azo.

Marquis Azo glanced over it quickly. "Piacenza, Bergamo, and Genoa... Aren’t you afraid of biting off more than you can chew?"

"If we are defeated by the Emperor, you lose nothing, do you? Your prison simply changes from Milan to Canossa. You can still die a martyr’s death, if you truly have the Courage.

And don’t forget the thirty thousand Marks you owe Pisa. With principal and interest, plus the doubled interest for overdue payment, you owe at least fifty thousand Marks.

Also, I heard the ten thousand Marks you managed to scrape together was stolen by the Patulin Sect. Who knows what they spent it on.

Do you remember the collateral listed in your contract when you borrowed from the Lanfranchi Bank?

All the lands you hold in the four territories of Milan City, Pavia, Piacenza, and Alexandria.

If you refuse our cooperation, Tuscany, as Pisa’s supreme Feudal Lord, has the right to collect that debt on behalf of its vassal.

At the same time, we will use the Roman Curia to spread news of your refusal to pay to every Parish in Italy. I guarantee you, not a single banker will ever lend you money again.

When that time comes, I’d like to see how your dilapidated Milan Marquisate intends to stand against the Tuscan army."

Eric shoved the quill into Marquis Azo’s hand.

"This isn’t cooperation, it’s coercion. I have no choice at all." Marquis Azo’s expression soured at the mention of the debt.

’If it weren’t for this damned debt, none of this chaos would have ever happened in Milan.’

"Am I forcing you? You have the freedom to sign, and the freedom not to. I just can’t guarantee your freedom if you choose the latter," Eric said.

"You... In that case, if I sign this agreement, my debt will be forgiven, yes?" Holding the quill, Marquis Azo dipped it in the ink. Just as he was about to sign the parchment, he asked with sudden, shameless audacity.

"That’s a debt you owe to Pisa. What has it to do with me? However, I will try to get your repayment term extended by another three years."

"In that case, I pray the Emperor has you hanged sooner rather than later." Gritting his teeth, Marquis Azo signed the document with his unique paraph.

Eric then took back the document and tucked it into his breast. "When you arrive at Canossa, I will have the Holy See act as our witness. Then, upon your return to Milan, you will read this aloud again before your vassals."

....

By the time Eric and his men emerged from the castle, the battle was nearly over.

Eric’s army had gained the upper hand; the Black Rose Corps and the city’s defenders were in full retreat.

Seeing the enemy fall back, many soldiers broke off their pursuit and immediately began to loot.

A few soldiers kicked open a door, declaring the house theirs.

A group of Archers in the green and white of Wales poured into an alley and entered a long, beautiful garden planted with pear trees and large, tidy beds of herbs.

Such a beautiful place seemed utterly incongruous beneath a sky filled with smoke and screams.

The garden borders were planted with sweet-smelling flowers, Violets, and lavender. There were seats beneath a trellis, and for a moment, it looked like a corner of Heaven.

But here, there were no Hymns. The air was filled with blood-tinged screams—the sound of soldiers.

Their voices craved blood, mocking a wealthy enemy.

They trampled the herbs without a care, tore down grape trellises, and ran over the flowers. They needed to pass through to plunder more valuable things.

The hounds of war had escaped their cages and were now devouring this great city.