episode_0036

The price of betrayal is death without exception.

And no matter how insignificant one may be, they knew their life was precious.

So when discussing the situation and prospects of Filah with the son of the mayor, who was there to gain practical experience, he said:

“If those reckless bandits know that the punitive force is coming, wouldn’t they retreat on their own?”

“No way.”

“The chances are slim.”

“I must have raised my child poorly. His head is completely in the clouds.”

“Ah….”

However, neither the priest, nor I, nor even the mayor of the city mentioned the possibility of those who had occupied Filah fleeing for their lives.

People naturally don’t like letting go of what they have. Especially if it’s the key to success. We all believed in human greed.

Except for the mayor’s son. After being denied three times, he faltered at the final blow delivered by his father and retreated, choking back tears.

For those whose profession is fighting, success means owning their own land.

There are three main ways to own land.

The first is the orthodox way, the most honorable and straightforward path.

By building a reputation honestly and honing your skills, you can be appointed by a wealthy lord to receive land. Of course, land is limited, so it won’t be easy.

The second is to pioneer new land.

If nobody lives there and nobody claims ownership, then planting your flag and declaring yourself the owner shouldn’t be a problem.

Of course, when no one lives there, it means the heretics are living there. As widely known, heretics don’t treat people well.

The third is simply… brazenly taking over a thriving village or city. Surprisingly, there have been cases where people became landowners this way.

Third-rate thugs rob passersby, second-rate thugs plunder villages, but first-rate thugs, knights, steal entire villages. This is what was happening in Filah.

Initially feeling threatened, or perhaps out of a sense of injustice, the rebellion that was started succeeded.

The ultimate goal of all knights and mercenaries had unexpectedly fallen into their hands. There was no reason not to be greedy.

As if to prove that fact, the gates of Filah remained tightly closed. Thieves patrolled the walls.

The battlefield I had once passed through still bore the marks of battle. Broken spears, scattered arrows, and the bodies of soldiers left lying around haphazardly.

As I silently gazed at it, one of the soldiers who had followed me pointed to a group of tents where the flag of the Viscount of Filah fluttered in the distance.

“Sir, there is the camp over there.”

“…Alright. Let’s go.”

After turning my gaze away from the gruesome scene, I headed towards the camp that had been set up nearby with the soldiers who had followed me.

*****

The soldiers had gone to the camp to find the supplies sent by the Papal decree.

As I was also receiving compensation from the church, I could be considered as one of the men employed by the church.

However, in my case, I needed to calculate the exact amount for the contract, and as a knight rather than a mere soldier, I had to show my face to the bishop.

So after parting ways with the soldiers, I came to the tent where the bishop was. Strictly speaking, it was a tent used as a command post, so it was not strange to see the bishop and the viscount, who were joint commanders in battle, together.

It was after approaching the high-ranking clergy and nobility, so I had to disarm after that.

The burden was taken off by Sancho. Still, I left the heavy armor in front of the tent to rest for a while.

There was no place to call a stable, so I had to leave the horse here for a while.

I handed the reins to Lycia. Even though the girl hadn’t ridden a horse during our journey together, she had become friendly with the horse, at least.

“Take care of the horse for a while. If anyone asks why you’re here, what will you say?”

“I’m the knight’s ward.”

“Alright, I’ll be back soon.”

I informed the guard outside the tent of my arrival.

The issue of my identity was quickly resolved after the detailed report on the troops to be sent by the bride had been submitted to the church.

“When can I go in?”

“I’ll let you know when the messenger comes out. Please wait a moment.”

The guard said this to me and then went to enter the tent.

Laughter could be heard from inside. It was a voice I hadn’t heard before, but it was clear from the context of the conversation that it belonged to the viscount.

The viscount was laughing.

“Thieves and wanted criminals have proposed a peaceful resolution.”

“Is that so? Tell me more.”

“If you recognize their rule over their fief-”

“Nonsense! I can never accept that. Was there no other condition?”

“That is the premise of all their proposals.”

“Those incompetent fools who know nothing but violence and have learned nothing…!”

He was half-mad, laughing out loud.

The viscount was laughing off his pain. His desire to become a noble people was evident even outside the tent.

While ordinary people expressed their dissatisfaction with the world in vulgar or blasphemous ways, nobles with refined speech expressed their disdain by belittling the work of others.

In this medieval world, a profession was akin to inheriting one’s parents’ profession. If the parents were farmers, the children were farmers; if the parents were blacksmiths, the children were blacksmiths, and so on.

A profession was one’s essence and identity. As there was nothing noble about scratching at the very core of an individual, nobles expressed their disdain by belittling the work of others rather than resorting to vulgar insults.

The viscount spat out words like, “They can’t even learn properly, don’t know any laws, and don’t follow the rules between people, causing rebellions.”

I couldn’t bear to listen to the part about earning money through violence, so I stood outside the tent feeling awkward. The knight listening was also flustered.

The viscount spent a long time scolding the hapless messenger in front of him.

As the timing to enter was being reconsidered, the guard at the tent finally signaled for me to enter. I spent time with Lycia and some jerky or dried fruit.

“It’s done. You can withdraw now.”

After a while, the exhausted messenger quickly came out of the tent.

Looking tired, he left, and the guard informed the tent that a new guest had arrived. With a grunt of approval from the viscount, the guard led me into the tent.

“At last, good news! I had almost forgotten when I last heard that the situation had improved.”

“I am Raven from Volle. I have come to fight for the liberation of Filah.”

I nodded slightly and greeted them. At the same time, I discreetly assessed who was in the room.

Obviously, the owner of the expensive clothing was the viscount. Judging by his attire, the clergyman was undoubtedly a bishop. In addition, there were a few guards and knights of officer rank for strategic planning.

“They say you have quite a reputation to the point of having a nickname. And I heard you are so faithful that you even took an oath. Surely, you must be wiser and more honorable than those bandits and scoundrels.”

Despite this, the viscount still cast a spell on one fully armed knight.

I raised my head, and only then did I understand the reason for the viscount’s groans and his lamentation of all the injustices in the world.

The bishop was hunched over, glancing around cautiously. The sin of destroying three cities was truly heavy.

After the messenger left, he seemed to relax slightly, but it was clear that if more bad news came, he would compress himself again.

“Well, do you have a lord you serve?”

“No, I have only made a contract to fight with the church.”

“Then my knights will fight alongside you. Please introduce them to the accommodation and the knights who will fight with you. Rest well in the meantime.”

After Count Filah spoke, he turned his head to look at the bishop.

“Your Excellency! Is that acceptable?”

“Of course. It’s easier for the knights to concentrate their strength when they act together.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“His Majesty said that he does not spare the necessary support. Shouldn’t I do the same?”

The bishop nodded continuously, unable to say that the money was mine and the knights were hired by me.

The dignified and enthusiastic figure seen at the ceremony was nowhere to be found, only a helpless old man sitting in a chair.

If the bishop was the church’s envoy and face, there was no reason for him to be so servile. However, he had angered the Pope by creating the possibility of the Count completely turning against the Emperor.

In other words, the bishop was a cherished doll given by the Pope to soothe his anger.

With enemies all around, there was no choice but to transfer to the Count’s stronghold. At least the mistakes made had to be resolved.

The Count promised a base salary and rewards proportional to performance in a notification that seemed to seek the bishop’s approval.

With the bishop’s reluctant approval today, my participation in the battle was decided, and I could finally leave the tent.