Chapter 240: What a Steal

The problem was that we were short on horses and couldn’t put together a wagon train, so I’d even considered sending Anton to Feuzen to bring wagons back. That’s when a cantonal official approached, looking to do business.

"You need horses, don’t you? I’ll sell them at a good price. Hahaha."

"Don’t need them. I’m sending Anton to haul wagons in from Feuzen."

"Haul them in yourself? B-but wouldn’t that take far too long?"

"Even if it takes forever, I’m not buying from you bastards who deliberately sat around waiting."

Nine times out of ten, these men showing up exactly when I needed horses meant they had been timing their sale. Cantonal bureaucrat cunning, no doubt. They must have heard the rumors and known I needed horses.

With all that commotion, there was no way they hadn’t.

Originally, I’d made selling the horses a condition of buying their food, but in the end I bought the food from other mercenaries instead, which sent the value of their food crashing too. Most of it I distributed to the commoners.

Thanks to that, the children were spared from starving.

Though, wary of ruffling Fried’s feathers, I distributed it in the name of the combined cavalry.

Buying horses from the cantonal official and assembling the wagon train right away would have saved time and money, but I refused because I didn’t want to hand a profit to a weasel.

Yet as time passed, the price kept dropping fast.

You could practically feel their dawning panic that failing to offload the horses would mean taking a loss.

"Ten silver coins per war horse! Three silver for a draft horse! We can’t go any lower!"

"Hm, a reasonable market rate. Fine. I’ll take all fifty."

Securing thirty war horses and twenty draft horses for a mere 360 silver coins? What a steal. I hadn’t intended to drive the price down this far, but one thing led to another, and I got the horses I needed dirt cheap.

Considering that war horses usually trade at twenty to fifty silver on the market, and that draft horses, the most in demand among farmers, go for about five silver, the cantonal official was probably cursing me as a miser under his breath.

The decision to advance on Baschurten seemed to be what had driven the price down.

The Swiss mercenaries were primarily infantry and had no use for horses, and even if they dragged the animals along, feeding them would be a struggle, so selling was the only answer. The other problem was that I was the only noble buying.

They’d worked the camp hard trying to unload the horses on the cavalrymen, but everyone lowballed them so absurdly that the horses went around in a circle and came back to me—right before I was about to send Anton to Feuzen, no less.

Their effort to sell the animals off was almost admirable, but Gedel quietly explained that the cantonal official had deliberately left the horses off the mercenary company’s spoils list to line his own pockets.

And yet he acted as if he’d taken a devastating loss selling them for a pittance, which was laughable. Whether he skimmed his cut or not, I’d secured the horses I needed for cheap, so I organized the migrant transport caravan as planned.

Their hearts swelling with dreams of escaping Boeven, which had brought them nothing but misery, and starting fresh in my territory—a land of high prestige and goodwill—the migrants finally set out for Feuzen. Many came to see them off.

Anton was in charge.

I attached twenty-two of the Gale Knights as escort, and they would stop at the temporary garrison in Meriant to load the wounded before heading on to Feuzen. Fiel and Viktor were on the casualty list as well.

With Anton gone too, I’d have no one around fit to assist me, and things would be inconvenient for a while, but with the combined cavalry and the friendly Offenburg Knights at hand, I’d manage on my own somehow.

With the invasion of Baschurten entering its final countdown, most of the garrison aside from the guard units, mercenaries included, began setting up and organizing camps outside Boeven, throwing the whole town into disarray.

Then Fried summoned all the commanders.

"Tomorrow, our army begins its advance on Baschurten."

At Fried’s signal, General Alexander began the briefing. Besides the thousand or so mercenaries, some three hundred additional troops conscripted from Valent, Hildrant, and Boeven were currently in training.

Baschurten, now Fried’s second target, had lately been behaving in ways no one could understand, handing out endless justifications for war left and right. Count Euz had his reasons for setting his sights on Baschurten.

Not only had Baschurten lost most of its regular army, but ever since the count was captured, his younger brother had been acting as regent—and it was this brother who had provided the single biggest cause for the invasion.

Despite the Count of Baschurten’s surrender, his brother had refused to honor it. A family head’s authority is absolute, yet his own brother disregarded it; the Geerhilt family was a crumbling mess.

And this allowed Count Euz to realize his plan of drawing in the Count of Belfort and me to carve up Baschurten from three sides. Traitors, and a clan that defies its own head!

What a deliciously dysfunctional pack of wretches!

As a result, Fried became supreme commander of the Baschurten invasion force, with General Alexander as deputy commander.

As commander of the combined cavalry, I was not under Fried’s control; I held fully independent command authority. I had simply been accompanying Fried to support him.

The same went for Benjamin, commander of the Offenburg Knights.

So General Alexander courteously requested one task of me.

"My lord, could you scout ahead and assess the situation at Baschurten’s border?"

"Understood. I’ll reconnoiter the area around the border village."

When I cooperated readily, the white-haired old general looked visibly relieved. The reason he was being so careful was that there had been some internal friction with the commander of the Offenburg Knights.

Benjamin was unfailingly kind and respectful to me, but he maintained an entirely different attitude toward Fried and the Euz commanders. The cause was a power struggle, with Benjamin leveraging Offenburg’s prestige.

His disposition may be justice (good), but he is by no means soft.

"The Offenburg Knights aren’t suited to reconnaissance, so we’ll remain with the main force."

"Ho ho, by all means. Having heavy cavalry with us is most reassuring."

"While we’re at it, Sir Bastern, why not return to Basel?"

"Don’t flatter yourself, heir. I am here to assist the Lord of Feuzen."

When Fried, his confidence restored, needled Benjamin, Benjamin snapped right back. The battle of wills was so fierce you could practically see lasers shooting from their eyes.

The commanders on both sides joined in the taut war of nerves.

I was forced to watch this spectacle for the entire meeting.

Benjamin was relieved that no brutal massacre had befallen the three territories, but his open criticism of Fried’s cruel streak had turned their relationship into a public feud.

Unlike me, who didn’t care whether the two of them fought or not, General Alexander seemed genuinely worried. The man was aging visibly by the day. He’s not going to die before receiving his land, is he?

Before the shouting could start, I rose from my seat first.

Mid-quarrel, every eye in the room turned to me.

"I’ll head to Öderlen first."

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

As the combined cavalry drew near Öderlen, I spotted several corpses hanging by the neck from a great zelkova tree beside the road. Grim, but a more common sight than you’d think.

It hadn’t been like this when I passed through before. What had happened? The Euz cavalry I’d sent ahead returned and reported their assessment that a siege battle had taken place at Öderlen.

Caw! Caw!

In the fields before Öderlen, flocks of crows and vultures were feasting freely on the unburied dead. Yet the equipment and arms remained untouched. The mercenaries probably saw it all as manna from heaven.

"My lord, if it’s all right, may we gather the spoils?"

Mercenaries to the bone.

In a situation like this, your first thought is loot?

After scanning the surroundings, I impressed upon my lieutenants that this was no time for gathering spoils. Something had registered on the Commander Scouter.

"First we deal with the ambush. That takes priority."

"Pardon? An ambush?"

Push in just a little further, and the ambush would come pouring out—that was the timing. They appeared to be Öderlen’s militia, and they seemed to think they could spring a surprise on us. Fat chance. I immediately pulled the troops back.

Then, flying a white flag, I took up a position near the ambush site.

We waited a good long while, but not a soul showed itself.

One of the cavalry lieutenants burst out in frustration.

"My lord, do you really think the ambushers will come out for this?"

"Wait a bit longer. It’s only been an hour."

"A whole hour, you mean?"

"No need to wait any longer. Look there."

At the jerk of my chin, the lieutenant’s gaze turned to the forest. Several of the people hidden in the woods were emerging. They were wary of the entire situation, but at any rate, I’d confirmed they were willing to talk.

The ambushers’ representative approached me.

He was grubby, no doubt from hiding in the forest so long, but remarkably handsome.

"Sir Knight, did you know we were lying in ambush?"

"Spend long enough on battlefields and you come to know by instinct."

Whether there’s an ambush or not.

It was a statement packed with bravado, but it seemed to land with the ambushers. In truth, it was purely thanks to the Commander Scouter, but dressing it up as personal skill to overawe an opponent was a tactic in itself.

"I demand only one thing. Surrender."

"Surrender? You mean hand over everything we own?"

"Fifteen hundred Euz troops will be sweeping through here soon."

The ambushers froze instantly. As a border village, Öderlen had probably defended itself successfully against forces of a few hundred, but the moment the numbers crossed into the thousands, holding out was impossible for a village of its weight class.

But the ambushers must have nursed deep grudges against Euz, because they bristled with fury.

Then again, border villages are also where skirmishes with neighboring territories routinely break out.

And the most likely opponent was the nearest territory: Boeven.

What would happen if the people of Öderlen and Boeven met?

"Better to die outright than live as slaves of Euz!"

"We will never surrender!"

For these people, skirmishing with Euz was practically a way of life. It was my good fortune that I was merely on friendly terms with Euz and had never fought a border skirmish against them myself.