A big swig of pale ale was taken from a mug that was almost overflowing.
This used to be a beverage that he had no chance of obtaining back in his demesne, but nowadays the taste of first-class booze flowing down his throat felt all too familiar.
He noisily belched out the sweet fragrance of the ale as he set down the large mug, with half of its contents still remaining, back onto the table. If this were one of those wooden mugs he was so used to, he would've slammed it down onto the table without a second thought, but he wouldn't dare do so with the porcelain stuff.
However, even if he did break the mug he wouldn't have to pay for it; after all, this tavern was specially prepared by his secret supporter, Hilma Cygnaeus.
Everything was free of charge for any of the nobles he would invite to this place, this policy even extended to their guests.
This kind of investment was to be expected for someone who's destined to become a powerful noble like he was, Baron Philip Dayton L'Eyre Montserrat.
All he had to do was to show his gratitude and repay her for this favor later on, for now everything is kept on tabs.
As things stood, even Hilma, whose wealth was beyond comparison to Philip's, was still a commoner and had to bow before authority. Perhaps that was the reason why she was trying so hard to become acquainted with a noble like Philip by supporting his faction on all fronts.
This is what separates the strong from the weak in this world — the difference in status.
Still, he owed her a big favor for all of her efforts.
As a gentleman who held himself accountable for all his debts, Philips hoped to improve his social standing as soon as possible. Hilma should also be expecting him to obtain authority above the rank of baron at the very least.
Then he'd have to repay his dues.
If those favors were not repaid as soon as possible, he would be stuck making concessions, having to obtain permission even for things he personally wanted to do.
To have the freedom to do whatever he wanted and the right to use his powers as he sees fit, those were Philip's dreams.
But—
"Why is nothing going my way!"
He could no longer hold in his true feelings. Philip surveyed his surroundings.
This tavern was not a regular peasants' bar. Hilma had converted one of her mansions into a tavern so crude noise had no place in it. So although his voice wasn't too loud to begin with, if there were someone around they probably would've heard him.
After confirming that no one was looking towards him, Philip calmed down.
To allow others to find out that he had failed would be disgraceful.
That's right — he had failed.
Die, you're all trash!
Philip gulped down ale as if it could quench the fiery emotions in his heart.
This only agitated him further as in his hurry, drops of ale had leaked from the corners of his lips, causing his skin and clothes to feel sticky as a result.
Philip's expression twisted in anger.
If all had gone according to his plans, the output of his demesne would have been multiplied and he should have been surrounded by people grateful that he was their new lord. His name should've been known to all after the neighboring nobles caught wind of his accomplishments.
So, how did it end up like this?
Not only had the grain productivity of his lands started to fall, he also felt as though the villagers he had visited were all staring at him with contempt.
Insolent scumbags!
He was finally the head of the house of Montserrat, a family with a long and dated history, those villagers should've known full well how they should pay their respects. Could it be possible that the villagers were all slacking off in an attempt to weaken his position?
It was certainly possible.
The world was filled with imbeciles who would be envious of others' talents after all. They couldn't even understand his talents and only scoffed at and got envious of those with talents. In that way they could create an illusion of megalomania.
No, it was not as though that was the only type of people in the world. There were so many villagers back there, there had to be some other reason for it. For example, a neighboring lord may have paid them to sabotage Philip's political ambitions.
It was certainly not impossible.
In general, if you focused production on more valuable goods, revenue would naturally rise by huge proportions. This should've been common sense.
Wouldn't it make sense to dedicate all the available farmland to the more valuable crops and buy grain from traders?
It was so obvious yet the number of people who'd disagree with him were countless.
Absolute trash! How about I ask Hilma about how I should punish these fools? If I do that they'll certainly start working hard for me again! I'll still need to investigate if they're conspiring against me, their lord! …No, wait. If it's something as simple as dishing out punishments, it'd be fine if I approve of it on my own, right?
In theory, it'd be the same as whipping cows and horses to get them to obey you.
Yeah, there's no need to tell Hilma about this at all. If I end up owing her another favor from this… Umu, Hilma's been good to me for quite a while, it's about time that I repay her generosity…
To a soon-to-be great noble, debt owed to a commoner like Hilma could be bilked, it was an easily exploitable situation. But alas, doing so would make him no different than a common thief. As a noble among nobles, such an act was utterly despicable, so it's best to quickly pay her back as much as possible.
It would be a big problem if he let Hilma have something to threaten him with due to his generosity. If that ever happened, Hilma could always have things her way and shut Philip up.
The question is, what would be the best form of repayment in this case…?
If he's going by their previous agreement, he would have to repay her in gold collected from the increased revenue of his land, but that's obviously not possible — nay, it would be difficult to do so at the moment.
So what was something that he could do that would both demonstrate his brilliance and also leverage the newly formed faction's power to benefit Hilma?
I say that, but I still don't have total control over this faction yet…
As a member of the faction, Philip had been given the opportunity to connect with all kinds of people.
Though the number of members supporting the idea that Philip should be the faction's leader was steadily rising, he hadn't gained the support of the entire aristocracy.
Hilma had aided him in that pursuit, but considering his age, social standing, et cetera, there were still some major hurdles he had yet to overcome. If Philip was to be in their position, he would be inclined to agree with their decisions too.
The same speech given by a senior earl and a junior baron would not be convincing to the same degree.
But doesn't that sound like they'll just be conforming to the traditions of the more established factions? Philip thought.
Being members of a new faction, they could not act like some aging organization but should rather introduce radical changes into the system. As a man with the courage to experiment and innovate, Philip was the perfect fit for the role of leader in this faction.
All the other guys are just so inflexible.
Blinded by his feelings of irritation, Philip did not notice his mug had somehow become empty.
"Oy! More booze!"
"Yes, my lord."
Some maid that looked like she's employed at the establishment was just passing by, so he barked his orders at her.
After taking a deep bow, she walked away in an odd manner, as if striking a pose, and Philip was unable to take his eyes off of her. Was it because her uniform was too thin? One could make out the shape of her buttocks.
"Ooof!"
An attractive derriere is obviously a desirable quality to flaunt with, but this maid had demonstrated a clear understanding of what constitutes an acceptable interaction between a superior and their inferior through her work ethic. This pleased Philip a lot.
Philip had already borrowed two maids from Hilma who were not so dissimilar to the one he's staring at.
These ladies would do anything you ask of them, you could even stiff their salaries. Every one of Philip's household matters had been handled by them.
Hilma also recommended people like butlers and exclusive merchants.
Though Philip wanted to fire those who had been under his family's employ for a long time and just keep his subordinates at hand, his father's fervent rejection of that proposal made him give up. Well, if he was the one paying for those servants then he would have definitely fired them to save expenses.
As Philip vaguely thought about these matters, someone spoke to him suddenly.
"Oh hey, Baron Montserrat. What's going on? You seem troubled."
He turned his head towards the source of the voice to see two nobles in front of him.
They had inherited their baronies at the same time, friends who belonged to the same faction. One of them carried a large mug topped with ale while the other held a plateful of nuts.
"Oh! Baron Delvin and Baron Rokerson!"
Baron Delvin was a man who lacked the status and prestige expected of a noble of his rank due to his short stature and delicate constitution. The only aspect of him that matched with his status would be his raiment, so if he were to wear common clothes, no one would be able to tell that he was one with the aristocracy. As it stands, you could convince a large group of people into believing that he was just an actor pretending to be a nobleman for a comedic play.
In contrast, Baron Rokerson cuts an imposing and sturdy figure. The man was thick in every dimension. Though he was a physically menacing man, he couldn't hold his own opinions without getting swayed by others. In Philip's eyes, Rokerson was more likely to be ordered around than order someone else around.
Their demesnes neighbored each other and it was a common sight for them to be working together. Philip remembered them due to a mental note he made to himself when they first met, that being why not just work solo like me?
"Are these seats taken?"
"Oh, please, do take a seat."
Rokerson gave a gentle nod and sat down alongside Delvin. The maid seemed to have timed her entrance perfectly as she walked in with ale in tow.
"Here, cheers!"
"It's our pleasure!"
According to legend, the act of clinking glasses together during a toast originated as a way to mix the contents of two cups together, proving that neither were poisoned. Philip knew of this fact and so used more force than was necessary.
Alcohol was spilled onto the table.
"Oh!"
Some of it had landed onto Baron Delvin's clothing.
It would be rude to say that his clothes had finally matched his appearance, but his garments, while noble in appearance, were not fresh and clean. No, it would be more accurate to say that it was reminiscent of a more traditional style, something that Philip would wear in the past, like a hand-me-down from his elders.
Philip felt pity.
What he currently wore was top-tier fabrics he had instructed Hilma to prepare for him. In other words, those two were not valuable enough to warrant such a level of investment from Hilma.
Philip contemplated the tragedy of the apparent difference in their future prospects compared to him as he asked, "So were the two of you here for drinks too?"
"—Umu, that's right, that's right. We were just here for drinks and were pleasantly surprised to find that Baron Monserrat was here too, so we came over to pay our respects! Right?!"
"It's just as you say, Baron Rokerson."
"No no no, what's this nonsense about paying respects? Aren't we equals? Comrades who are supporting each other?"
"Oh! I never knew that someone as great as Baron Montserrat viewed people like us as equals! That does bring joy to our hearts! Right?!"
"It's just as you say. Now, if you will, please try some of these."
The man on the opposite end hastily presented the hors d'oeuvres.
"Thank you very much, Baron Rokerson."
"Oh my! We're no strangers, Baron Montserrat. Feel free to call me Wayne and him Igor."
"Understandable. Then I'd request that both of you refer to me as Philip!"
The three shared in a hearty laugh as they downed their pale ales.
"But anyways — Philip-sama, what has been bothering you? You seemed quite troubled just then."
"Just then?" At this point the alcohol had slightly — yes, only ever so slightly dulled his mind, his anger flared back up.
"Ahhh, those useless idiots keep giving me headaches. Oh, I'm talking about the peasants living on my land."
"So that's why, I completely understand! It's completely understandable for someone as sagacious as Philip-kakka to be angry over those who could never hope to grasp your thoughts. Common people like us aren't on the same level as you, right?"
"Exactly, it's completely understandable for someone as smart as Philip-kakka to be angry over such matters."
Philip was touched by their agreeing with him.
They were nobles like him, so was it natural that they could understand his troubles? They too must also be perturbed by their own subjects' stupidity.
"The two of you get what I'm going through?!"
"Umu, we do, we do. Though I'm not as outstanding as Philip-kakka, I've also had my fair share of experience with the issues you're faced with."
"Exactly — looks like we're out of ale — oy! What are you doing not pouring ale for Philip-kakka!"
The maid that was summoned immediately brought over some ale straight to Philip. He raised his mug, now filled to the brim with ale.
"Here, let us toast each other once more!"
The mugs were smacked together.
Philip downed his ale.
Delicious.
He felt as though the ale had never tasted better than in this moment, perhaps it's because he's sharing a drink with his sympathizers.
Most members of the new faction chose to distance themselves from Philip, one reason being that Philip was at the helm of the faction; consequently, he hadn't been able to make any friends. That was why Philip was in such a good mood, these two who had approached him gave him solace. He was overjoyed to the point of wanting to rub shoulders with them.
"Ah, Philip-kakka! I'm honored that you'd rub shoulders with me, but your ale might spill. How about you down some of it first and then… oh!"
He spilled some ale again. Though it was free of charge, being so wasteful would be an insult against Hilma.
Philip removed his arm from the other noble and drank in a rambunctious manner.
"Woah! That's what I expected of you, you can certainly hold your alcohol, am I right?"
"That's right, as expected of Philip-sama!"
"Psssht! No no, that's not true. It's just that this ale tastes better than usual when enjoyed with outstanding nobles like you."
"Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! Kakka would speak such words that fill my heart with joy. As the two of us have a lower tolerance for alcohol, we can't help but be in awe of your capacity."
"Eh? The two of you can't drink much?"
They were both still on their first cup and the level of ale hadn't gone down much.
"It's embarrassing to admit, but to tell the truth, neither of us can find any appeal in alcohol, right?"
"That's right, but since we're in this type of establishment it would be awkward not to drink at all, so we're only taking tiny sips."
"Because we can't hold our alcohol, we're quite envious of men who could, like Philip-kakka. Please, please, do take our portion as well."
Philip followed along with their suggestions and drank cup after cup. The more he consumed, the lighter his head felt. It was around this time when his face started turning red.
"Now that's the way to do it. I remember Philip-kakka mentioning the idiots in your land, so what happened exactly?"
"Huh? Ah, what was it, did I talk about that?"
"Yeah, you mentioned something along those lines… it appears to me that you might've had a little too much to drink, should I bring some non-alcoholic beverages over? Does that sound agreeable?"
"That's right. Philip-kakka, would you like some water? The water they serve here does not stink of moss."
"Ehhh—, that wouldn't be necessary. I'm fine, I'm fine." Heat pulsed across his face, he didn't need a mirror to know that his face had turned completely red.
"…Ahhh, I was talking about my woes. I'm broke, broke."
"We're in a similar situation, am I right?"
"That's right, our demesnes aren't exactly prospering either."
"No, no. It's not what you think it is. If those worthless peasants had done what I ordered them to, there should've been large sums of gold flooding into my pockets. But they don't work hard enough and won't listen. It's all their fault. Every single one of them is worthless."
"Oooooh! Philip-kakka is absolutely correct. This world is filled with worthless trash. I can understand your pain! By the way, what is the special product of your lands, Philip-kakka?"
"Nothing apart from agricultural produce at the moment. Damn it."
A lot of trials were being run on various aspects of production, but none had borne fruit yet.
"Agricultural produce, huh… It would be nice to have some kind of unique product, otherwise…"
"Typical agricultural products don't sell for much, but that's to be expected."
The two noblemen spoke of a lot of their own opinions.
They were correct, that was why there was a need to cultivate crops of higher value. It would be risky as it was probable that they would not be able to harvest the crop in the short-run, the fact of whether a crop could be cultivated at all or not had to be investigated too. Even so, it was a necessary investment for the future, yet those lowly peasants would always use "our hands are full" as their excuse even in the face of a direct order.
"Considering that current situation, if nothing changes then I could only wait for a bad harvest so the price of grain would go up!"
"What about your own terri—"
Wayne jabbed Igor with his elbow mid-sentence and then he moved closer to Philip to whisper.
"You're right, but even if a bad harvest occurs, the price won't necessarily rise. Did you know that there is a huge amount of cheap grain being transported from the Sorcerer Kingdom to the Kingdom? So the price for regular produce is unlikely to fluctuate much and it would be equally unlikely for any non-valueadded product to fetch a high price."
"What?!"
"Ah, Philip-kakka, you're being too loud."
Philip surveyed his surroundings in a frenzy, lowered his voice, and then said to Wayne, "Is that true?"
"Mhm, the intel was obtained from trustworthy sources, it was being spread amongst a few of the merchants in the capital. Apparently the Sorcerer Kingdom has stored large quantities of grain in warehouses owned by the merchants in the capital. It was said that they were even allowed to sell them, but the Sorcerer Kingdom obviously had the priority input on how they were being used."
"Hm? So it wasn't merchants importing goods from the Sorcerer Kingdom to sell here, but rather, the Sorcerer Kingdom was storing food in the Kingdom?"
"That's right. I don't know much about the exact details other than the fact that it's there for storage only and the Sorcerer Kingdom had already paid for the storage fee… or was it rent for the warehouses? In any case, the merchants made money from that deal. It wasn't much, but it was still something."
"…Do people just rent out their warehouses so easily?"
"Normally it would be difficult to secure storage space. But wasn't that warehouse district attacked by that Fiend? I heard a lot of the warehouses were empty and so the owners happily leased them out. Therefore, as long as the grain remains there, the merchants are not likely to raise the price of food. It's easy to imagine people saying things like 'if it gets more expensive, I'd rather buy from the Sorcerer Kingdom' should the price go up. Oh right, did you know about ERantel's huge grain storehouse?"
"No, no. What of it?"
"Within this huge warehouse enchanted with the spell [Preservation], there are places where food will never rot, courtesy of a magical item. Until recently, military rations for over a hundred thousand soldiers were painstakingly collected from neighboring lands in preparation for a war with the Empire annually. Food collection takes time so it could rot during the process, not to mention that obtaining food was harder during some time periods. That huge storehouse was built to counter these problems. Apparently the magical item wasn't something that could be transported elsewhere, so it was formally gifted to the Sorcerer Kingdom. That means the Sorcerer Kingdom's surplus grain could be stored there for years."
"Even if the food could last for many years, the Sorcerer Kingdom is a country with a single city, E-Rantel. How's it possible for them to produce that much food?"
Even if the rumor spreads throughout the Kingdom, grain prices should only drop by a tiny bit at most considering the Kingdom's large population.
"Oh, about that. According to some credible rumors, the Sorcerer Kingdom is using undead creatures to work large swathes of farmland; as a result, they saw a tremendous boost in their grain productivity. That way even such a small territory could match the entire Kingdom's output. If you think about it, we're talking about undead creatures that do not know fatigue. But. Well, if you think of that food being made by the undead it's hard not to feel disgusted by it."
"What? That's just cheating!"
Philip couldn't help but yell. The Sorcerer King could easily accomplish what he couldn't get his subjects to do no matter how hard he tried. All the pain that he had to suffer through, the Sorcerer King deserved as well.
Or, perhaps he should also be using the undead for farming?
"That being said, it's not like there's nothing suspicious about it. After all, even if the undead worked tirelessly around the clock, for them to match the entire Kingdom's output is… Still, their agricultural output is quite high, there's no doubt about it. Right now, the Sorcerer Kingdom is sending food aid to the Holy Kingdom."
"Food aid?"
"Mhm. Jaldabaoth, the Archfiend who brought chaos to our royal capital, appeared in the Holy Kingdom. It seems like his rampage caused some food scarcity issues and the Sorcerer Kingdom responded by sending the food bought from the Kingdom merchants as aid. A caravan with wagons full of grain passed through my territory the other day, so it has to be true."
"How much can remain in the merchants' warehouses if the food was used as aid to the Holy Kingdom?"
"That's a fair point. Still, it's a necessity to stockpile food in order to prepare for bad harvests. Plus, I don't think the Sorcerer Kingdom used up all the grain they had bought as aid."
That made sense. If Philip were the Sorcerer King, he would have also used the surplus food, which had been sitting in storage for quite a long time, as aid.
"Exactly. Well, bad harvests don't happen that easily, right—"
"—That's why it's risky to wait for the climate to influence the situation. A better solution is required. For example, if the Sorcerer Kingdom's grain supply suddenly disappeared, then the food produced in Philip-kakka's demesne should sell for a high price. That being said, you can't just do things like instigating a war with the sole objective of forcing the enemy to burn through their grain supply."
It was at this moment when an idea was formed spontaneously in Philip's head.
If the fact that grain does not sell for much even during bad harvests depended on the continued existence of the Sorcerer Kingdom's grain supply, what would happen if that were to disappear?
There was only one answer.
Grain prices would go up.
Next question: how could one make the Sorcerer Kingdom's stockpile of grain suddenly disappear?
The hint was in Wayne's words. The Sorcerer Kingdom's grain production must fall. But, this was not an easy task. After all, Philip couldn't just sneak into the Sorcerer Kingdom and burn all their fields, right?
What about stealing the grain?
The moment Philip thought of this solution, he felt as though a lightning bolt had struck his body.
To take a foreign country's property by force was, by common sense, an extremely dangerous action. Even without taking the consequences into account, Philip simply did not have the military strength to take on an entire country at this current moment. But, the Kingdom should see the Sorcerer Kingdom as its enemy. After all, a significant portion of its own citizens was killed in the war. It would be strange to not view them as enemies. If that's the case, wouldn't it be a brilliant move to steal from an enemy?
That way, Philip would be able to earn the support of the Kingdom's ruling class and perhaps there was even a chance he would be promoted to a higher rank in light of his contributions.
…Not bad. Isn't this a great idea?
As the cherry on top, he could also sell the grain that was taken from the Sorcerer Kingdom.
This is like killing three birds with one stone. A plan that was so perfect it could not be improved upon! But, how will I rob them of the grain? Should I discuss it with Hilma and hire mercenaries? No, that's no good. Mercenaries don't have a sense of honor.
Only idiots would leave a trail behind that could be traced back to them and be used as blackmail material.
.
Following that logic, only his own soldiers could work. He'd call them soldiers but in actuality, they would just be a few armed villagers. He had considered forming a unit with trained soldiers instead of villagers who could only do farm work. Paying said soldiers with the grain that they would seize would be an excellent option.
But still, marching straight into the Sorcerer Kingdom's territories would be dangerous.
Philip's demesne was some distance away from the Sorcerer Kingdom so the cost of a marching army wasn't something that he could just shrug off.
No, wait, didn't he talk about some of the Sorcerer Kingdom's caravans passing through his lands? What if I attack those?
Was Philip alone enough to take on such large caravans? There was a limit to the number of villagers he could mobilize, but an overwhelming numerical superiority, enough to make the enemy surrender without any resistance, was absolutely necessary.
"Are you two free to have a chat? There's a matter that I would like to discuss with you all."
"We are, what's this 'thing'?"
"Mhm, it's something good."
Philip moved towards the pair and proudly began to explain his impeccable plan.
***
"What the hell, he should've said sorry at the very least." Wayne scoffed after saying goodbye to Philip.
The garment that was now stained with beer used to be his father's and was quite old in both texture and design, making it quite a rare item. He had originally planned to show up to formal social gatherings with that garment, but now he would have to make preparations all over again.
At the end of the day, the aristocracy was nothing more than a bunch of creatures whose eyes could not see past one's appearances. Clothing was naturally a part of the game, so what had just happened was absolutely unacceptable. But the truth was that Wayne was at the bottom of the upper-class society, so what good could have come from having some nice clothes?
On the contrary, this shabby garment could signify the owner's weakness, and was therefore very useful for someone who wishes to be under the protection of their superiors. An outfit like this was a must-have for him to play the role of a weak nobleman on the stage that is a salon. So until he takes on the role of another character, he was under its care.
That was why it was even more unbearable than usual to see it sullied.
"That is true."
A voice beside him chimed in, prompting Wayne to turn to look at its source.
"…Enough, that's enough."
His voice turned somber along with the atmosphere surrounding him. Had Philip stood witness to this change, he would have been shocked speechless.
Wayne was never the extroverted type, he just plain disliked conversing with other people. To do so he would have to create layers upon layers of facades as he desperately attempted to pretend he was the extroverted and effusive type.
"Sorry dude, I really can't handle that kind of a guise so you had to take care of most of it."
Igor had switched from his previous personality too; he now spoke in an unrefined manner using language that none of the nobility would dare to be caught speaking.
"No need, if you're really sorry, go practice a few of those pleasantries. Lowerlevel nobility like us have to put in real effort to appease those at the top."
"Life's just getting more and more difficult. I thought that once we inherited the barony we'd be able to join the racket of the aristocracy… Shameless flattery and ingratiation, just those two things alone annoy the shit out of me."
"Pffft, what are you talking about…? Peasants have to deal with the same shit. Never mind who has it worse, everybody who's working under somebody has to be a bootlicker of sorts."
"And that's why I never wanted to grow up… Man I miss the days when we were carefree enough to swing sticks around and pretend to be dragon slayers."
"There's no going back so don't think about it. Anyways, just learn to flatter others. That brainlet seems to be a good candidate to practice on, right? Even if we fuck it up our losses would be small."
To noblemen of the higher echelon or those with more experience in life, basically those who had seen it all, nothing could satisfy them unless it was made to perfection. That was why they had to gain experience every time they had a chance.
"For real…? Well, the next time we meet him I'll try extra hard to put on a face."
"Yeah, that'll do, that'll do. No one dislikes pleasantries. If someone you're talking to is annoyed at you, it just means that your ability to hold a conversation isn't there yet… Igor, I know this is hard. I'll make up for your flaws and you can make up for mine, that was our deal, but you can't just stop trying to overcome your own weaknesses because of that. It's not like we'll be with each other forever."
Though Wayne might be more intelligent than the average person, he was completely outmatched in terms of athleticism. Igor was the complete opposite.
If they were of the same type, perhaps they would have been competitors instead. It was for this reason they were grateful for the fact that neither of them thought of each other that way. It was unusual for neighboring lords to be friendly with each other, but since they were the third and fourth sons of their family, they weren't indoctrinated with animosity from the past. That was why they were so close.
Most importantly, they had chemistry.
"Is that so…? So, what about what we discussed with him?"
"Absolutely terrible."
Wayne did not hesitate for a second before answering his friend's question.
For someone like him to be at the helm of the faction was just far too dangerous of a situation.
"But, wasn't that guy easily manipulated?"
"Mhm, that's true."
This faction was, frankly speaking, a garbage dump.
Its members were only in it to capitalize on their status as noblemen and had absolutely no interest in developing their lands. Like a child with an iron sword, they abused their windfall authority. They had accomplished nothing whatsoever yet were overconfident enough to believe they were omnipotent.
These people were beyond saving. Even someone like Wayne could understand that he was just a completely ordinary nobleman, yet they couldn't. The faction was full of that kind of people.
It was safe to say that because of this, the faction had a huge problem.
"The Sorcerer Kingdom storing grain in the capital is a disturbing development because they theoretically have complete control over its market price. They'll definitely raise the prices due to our bad harvest this year. What's even more terrifying is the fact that the nobles who are optimistic about such a blatant trap and have switched their farmlands to only grow cash crops aren't the minority. Their mentality is that even if anything bad were to happen, they could get through a famine by importing grain from the Sorcerer Kingdom, even if the price is a bit higher."
A lot of landed nobles in this faction had this mentality. Despite his attempts to subtly hint at the perils of doing so, their attitudes clearly demonstrated their belief that they alone would not be affected by it. They were determined to put their plans into action.
"…We lost a great amount of our labor force in that war. It's easy to see that they're fixated on the short-term profits based off of how they're distributing their remaining work force alone."
To let go of petty gains and instead focus on long term profits should've been common sense for those at the top of the hierarchy.
"So to even think of robbing a Sorcerer Kingdom's caravan of grain is evidence that he's got brain damage. Surely no one is stupid enough to not understand that attacking a caravan that's flying the Sorcerer Kingdom's flag would be treated as a declaration of war and would result in serious retribution? Even if he's this — Hold up. Were we being deceived?"
It was certainly possible that they were being set up and he just couldn't figure out what that man's goal was. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad choice to accept his proposal after all.
"No, aren't you overthinking? It's probably because he was really that much of an idiot that he didn't consider the potential consequences at all while he was coming up with that plan."
"Hey now," Wayne smiled bitterly, "to not consider the consequences of attacking those wagons at all — can an idiot of that magnitude really exist?"
"Well… if you put it that way…"
At any rate, there was no plausible way that a noble without common sense would be chosen to inherit his family's title; hence, Philip must have had a goal.
What could his goal be?
"It's best if we consult Cygnaeus, right?"
"—No, don't tell her."
Hilma Cygnaeus, the woman who did everything in her power to establish this faction.
It was rumored that she was a lover of a certain earl, but the formation of this faction would not have benefited said earl in any shape or form. And so, the origin of her overly plentiful funds and wide connections remained a mystery.
It was probably an organization, not an individual, that was behind the woman. By the simple process of elimination, one could easily arrive at which organization would have had such capabilities.
The Eight Fingers.
The crime syndicate controlling the Kingdom's underground society.
In that case, Hilma was probably someone who could be readily discarded, like a mannequin.
No, Wayne's intuition told him.
His few conversations with her told him that she was definitely not some simple sacrificial pawn. In fact, it was more than likely that she was one of the higher-ups of the organization. To have someone like her embedded in the faction was worrying to say the least. Although some nobles had the power to covertly form pacts with the crime syndicate, Wayne did not want to get entangled with such illegal organizations himself.
It was precisely because they didn't think too highly of themselves that they would want to take advantage of her whilst maintaining a smooth operation.
"Why…? Looks like you're thinking about something that I won't be able to grasp again, but isn't it about time that you tell me what's going on? Even I know that saying yes to that guy will get us into trouble in the future. We're about to attack a Sorcerer Kingdom's caravan in your territory, you know? That bony bastard is definitely not gonna just let it slide. There's no way that that guy's not losing his head after this, and yours might not stay connected to your neck for long either."
Igor was completely correct, but Wayne had an idea; he had agreed to the proposal with a full understanding of the risks involved.
"Perhaps that is that idiot's plan, to make us his scapegoats and pocket the stolen goods for himself. How about we go along with his plan? We'll be patrolling our own territories and will just so happen to stumble upon a group of bandits, the group that was responsible for the attack on the Sorcerer Kingdom's caravan. After that, we'll kill them all. It's crucial that we alone are responsible for taking care of them."
If an individual's caravan were to be attacked, no victim would simply stand down after receiving the news that the perpetrators were killed. This holds true even on a national level. Retaliation would have been more than warranted. This is why they must not leave behind any evidence of their involvement.
Moreover, they had managed to make it easier for them to maintain their innocence by painting the narrative that they were simply taking care of an incident that had coincidentally occurred on their lands.
"How about that? Not a bad plan to gain favor with the Sorcerer Kingdom, right? Even if we are suspected of involvement, we can just say that we were attempting to help aid the caravan. We'll be fine as long as the perpetrators are all dead. You know what they say — dead men tell no tales."
"We're getting ahead of ourselves, but we do have to consider the possibility that there are priests who could resurrect the dead. You know what they also say? No lie slips by the priest."
"…Do you seriously believe that there are priests capable of resurrection in the Sorcerer Kingdom? In a country where the undead are said to proudly walk the streets, tormenting the living?"
"No, I guess?"
Wayne grinned as he concurred with Igor.
"Regardless of that man's goals, an attack on a Sorcerer Kingdom's caravan is beneficial to us no matter the outcome. It doesn't matter if the attack succeeds — which I don't think it will — or fails, because the Sorcerer Kingdom would be on high alert for further attacks in the future either way. They might stop storing grain with the Kingdom's merchants. That way, those idiots would get a wakeup call and start making plans with a more solid foundation. Also—" Wayne laughed mockingly, "that man will be done for no matter what."
"Is he worth all the hassle? For us to take all of these risks just for him?"
"Of course he's not worth it personally, but it's necessary to hinder Cygnaeus, the woman behind him, even if it's just by a little. She must be planning to use him to manipulate the faction and draw attention away from her, ultimately allowing her syndicate to operate in one form out in the open. If that weren't the case, it wouldn't make sense for them to invest so much money into the faction."
The Royal faction and the Noble faction had already lost much of their power.
If one could freely manipulate this third faction of theirs, they would be able to wield a terrifying amount of authority. This meant that the Eight Fingers would be in charge of both the Kingdom's legal and illegal affairs.
"I would only be able to come up with temporary solutions for these things, but you've already thought this far ahead, huh?"
As Igor said, such an idea should be out of reach of the minds of nobles, let alone a lowly Baron. The truth is of course, not all barons are the same, some of them owned more land than nobles of a higher rank.
Unfortunately for the two of them, their territories were of sizes befitting a Baron, so they were your average barons in the Kingdom.
All the nobles without connections in the Royal faction or the Noble faction wanted to do was to better develop their land. For this to happen, the Kingdom must also change for the better.
They had the idea not just because they were nobles, it was also borne of their own ambitions.
What they desired was to become wealthier and happier.
That's why they would exploit any beneficial opportunities to its maximum potential.
"But even if we switched to a better faction, we would have to rebuild our reputation and connections all over again, right?"
"Yeah, right."
They had joined the faction to obtain opportunities that would otherwise be unavailable to them had they joined a more well-established faction. However, they never expected the Eight Fingers to appoint such a cretin to its leadership position. It seemed as though joining this faction was a mistake.
"Speaking of which, would the Sorcerer Kingdom use this as an excuse to declare war on the Kingdom?"
Wayne thought about it for a moment and shook his head.
"Unlikely. The Sorcerer Kingdom is a nation with a single city, they lack the manpower to fully occupy the entire Kingdom. Even if they have a lot of undead, they're only suitable for simple manual labor anyways. They can't properly manage a country, so even if war was declared, they would only ask for land that is closest to them at most… It shouldn't be an issue for nobles like us whose land is far from the Sorcerer Kingdom. Now then—"
He raised up a clenched fist as he spoke and Igor mirrored his movements to give him a fist bump.
"Let's do this!"
"Yeah!"
-x-X-x-
Philip had finally reached his destination, a patch of road in Baron Delvin's demesne. He had led his soldiers on a march, starting from the previous day and camping overnight, to the location of the attack. According to his intel, the Sorcerer Kingdom's caravan would be passing through this place.
Philip was on horseback, looking down upon his lined-up soldiers.
They were soldiers, or more accurately villagers, under his command.
A total of fifty were gathered.
He had sent draft orders throughout his entire territory, but not many men responded to the call. The most common response was that they had already served the time they were obligated to.
The truth was, this heavily upset Philip.
The plan was devised for the future prosperity of their lands, for the good of everyone who lived there. There was also an abundance of potential spoils of war, which Philip had given thought to and proposed that it should be distributed to everybody. Still, no one came to help.
They were too foolish.
A bunch of ignoramuses who could not tell if something was beneficial to them or not. Nay, this was the exact reason why they had to be led and lorded over by a genius such as himself.
Despite trying so hard to convince himself otherwise, his anger towards those who did not understand him flared up. He had thought about forced conscriptions, but that would definitely enrage his old man, who already had a foot through death's door.
In the end, he paid them in advance with the money he had borrowed from Hilma.
After all of his hard work, he managed to gather fifty men, but these were either old geezers well past their prime, sick youths with frail bodies, or men with inflated egos who went around looking for fights in their villages and were generally fractious.
To put it bluntly, they were the nuisances of their village and none of them were worth the money. Even so, Philip felt an indescribable excitement basking in the gaze of his soldiers.
He had a hunch that a widely circulated heroic tale of his own was about to begin. No, it had already begun.
As his territory will inevitably expand, so too would his status grow. He would soon be joining the world's stage under brilliant limelight.
He was about to deliver the first blow to the Sorcerer Kingdom, a feat no one else could accomplish. As a ploy to contain the Sorcerer Kingdom, this would surely allow Philip to receive high praise from the royal family and a rank that was befitting of such an achievement. Perhaps he could even marry that beautiful princess—
"—So, milord, can we actually attack them?"
Philip, who had been basking in his dream, was jolted back to reality as if a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over him.
He returned to his senses and looked at the soldier who had asked the question.
The soldier was an ordinary man, around 30 years old. He wore disheveled clothes and, for some reason, was holding a wooden shovel.
Even a club would have been better than a shovel, perhaps even some of the sticks lying around here would have worked as well. Philip wanted to say something about that, but the shovel was probably the result of his order to have them bring their own weapons.
Frankly, seeing that a few of the villagers were without even sticks gave Philip a bit of a headache. Apart from them, however, the group as a whole appeared as though they were some destitute bandits. Perhaps it could even fool their opponents into believing so.
The soldiers around them apparently agreed with the man's doubts, as everyone within sight turned their heads towards him as if to say "Yeah, I was thinking about the same thing."
"It'll be fine, this is a move to save the Kingdom."
"Uh, milord, we don't really get the whole Kingdom thing, it's too complicated for us. We won't get tied up and 'ave our heads chopped off though, ye?" Another man asked, and soon the others started to echo along with their "yeah"s. Philip was greatly surprised by the questions that demonstrated a complete lack of an understanding of justice.
—It's precisely because so many people like them exist, that someone talented like me has to lead them. Nobody obeyed my plans on farm management because these people could only think on a surface level…
"I said there would be no problems, are you all deaf?"
"…No, no we aren't."
The soldiers were not convinced, their spite was visible.
Maybe he should have executed someone as a warning to the others, but that would make it seem like he couldn't lead at all. He would lose his dignity if he couldn't get them to work despite knowing that there were risks involved.
As Philip panicked and knew not what to do, he heard the overpowering sound of horses' hooves stomping on the ground. He turned his head to see two horsemen galloping towards him. Their faces were both covered save for the eyes, but he still knew who they were.
The two stopped afar and waved at him.
Why didn't they come over here? Shouldn't they come towards me and not the other way round? Philip thought maybe they had something to say that must be kept secret.
"Hm, I guess I have to."
He could finally feel a bit better about himself by saying things in a pretentious manner and so changed his expression to a flippant one to match.
Philip moved towards them on horseback. He'd had some practice riding, so having a horse walk in a straight line was not a problem.
"Baron, how are your preparations coming along?"
The man's face was masked so it was hard to identify him, but judging from the voice and his build, the man could be deduced to be Baron Delvin, or Wayne.
His outfit, however, was nothing like that of a baron's.
The hide armor was a bit dirty and a sword hung by his waist. His horse looked bored and lifeless, like a farm horse instead of a warhorse. Next to him was Baron Rokerson, or Igor, who looked pretty much the same. Their appearances matched so well that even their horses looked similar.
Unlike Philip who had some financial backing, they must have been quite poor. Philip thought about the time when he had seen them wearing shabby clothes and tried his best to hide the sense of superiority that was about to show on his face.
Well, now I can't show this pathetic duo that I'm irritated by my soldiers' low morale, can I? This is such a pain.
He, as someone of higher status, must show to those below him exactly what made him superior to them. Philip must act as a role model for society, and the inferior must follow Philip. That way, the world could run smoothly.
"Only the two of you? What about your men?"
"We have already prepared them, right?"
"Exactly, our soldiers will flank Philip-kakka's and form the Crane-Wing Formation."
"Oh! The Crane-Wing Formation!"
Even Philip knew about that formation. Deploying such a famous formation was quite a gratifying thing to do; it was as though he had become the protagonist of some tale.
"So, if things go south please scatter towards the left and right. The enemy won't scatter if we only go in one direction. Remember to spread as far apart as possible when retreating."
"I understand. It's fine, you don't need to remind—"
"—Wouldn't it be better to decide in advance who should go which way? A successful retreat can be difficult in the heat of battle. This applies to Philipkakka as well. Which direction will you be retreating to?"
They spoke as though they had foreseen his defeat, this made Philip quite upset.
"So you're sure that I'll lose?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that, Philip-kakka. Have you heard of the tactic of feigning a retreat to exterminate all the pursuing enemies in one go?"
"—Ah, aha, yes I have."
Oh I see, Philip accepted their explanation, but since it would be unpleasant to admit his ignorance, he acted as though he had already known of the tactic.
"As I thought, you knew about it. Well there you have it, this is the strategy, one that includes a strategic retreat."
Well in that case… As Philip was getting ready to discuss which way to retreat to, he realized that an important piece of information was missing.
"Before I answer, I have a question. You two haven't told me about the size of your forces yet. How many men did you bring?"
.
"75 each."
Philip was so shocked that they could muster up more men than he could that the thought with these numbers, escaping in any direction would be the same never crossed his mind until later on. Philip rationalized that, since this was their demesne after all, it made sense that it wouldn't be as difficult for them to do so. If this were simply a matter of quantity, things would be much easier; the problem lied in their prior considerations. Philip estimates that he could have mustered at least twice the number of men had this been his demesne.
"…If we have this much manpower, doesn't it make more sense for us to attack all at the same time? After all, we have around 200 men here."
"Though that would be a viable option too, it wouldn't be the Crane-Wing Formation. For it to be a Crane-Wing Formation, Philip-kakka soldiers must advance first with our forces covering the side flanks."
"Ahh, so that's why!"
Right, that's why. He had managed to completely forget about it.
Wayne let out an audible sigh. Since his face was completely covered, no one could see his current expression.
"I'm glad you could understand. Now then, which direction should we retreat to?"
"Ah, yes. We'll retreat towards Igor-kakka's direction then."
"So towards the left flank, I understand. Then I'll request that you stick to the battle plan we had discussed before. Please also keep an eye out for archers, it's not so uncommon for horses to kill their riders in a stampede once they've been struck by arrows."
"As long as I have this armor, I'll be fine even if a horse stepped on me. This is a high-grade item that was crafted by a renowned blacksmith and enchanted by magic casters."
Philip's armor set was a gift from Hilma. The armor had been enchanted with magic that boosted its defense, allowing it to outclass the armor set that had been passed down as a family heirloom in his house. Though he had received this gift quite a while back, he had never had the chance to try it out yet. This will be the armor's debut.
That Baron over there certainly did not have something of such high quality.
Philip tried his hardest to stop his sense of superiority from showing up in his voice.
"Even so, it's best to err on the side of caution. Everything would be for naught if kakka were to be killed in the fray. This is the truth."
"That's correct, because Philip-kakka is our general."
"Even if you're donned with such excellent armor, there are still weak points where an arrow could strike. In addition, no matter how durable the armor is, it cannot defend against most spells. Please do not let down your guard because of the armor, after all, Philip-kakka is our general."
Their repeated warnings greatly annoyed Philip, but he understood where they were coming from. If a general were to be slain, then the battle would be over, that was common sense.
Knowing that these two saw him as their leader, Philip couldn't help but smile.
"Of course, I understand."
"…Also, where will Philip-kakka deploy our formations? It would be too dangerous to deploy on the road. I believe it would be best to stay back, that way we could rush to your aid if we have to retreat. It would help if you can tell us your position."
Umu, umu. Philip was in agreement.
When the general is in danger, it is the duty of his subordinates to rush to his aid. Though this was common sense, Philip was shocked that he wasn't the one to suggest this in the first place.
I would have noticed these things if this was the usual me… right now I'm just too excited. This is my first time organizing a battle of this scale.
Philip gulped slightly and took a deep breath.
"Wha—, what's wrong?"
"Ah, nothing. I was just trying to temper the fiery passion for this battle in my heart."
"…Oh, I see. Is that so…? Umm, then where would Philip-kakka like to wait for the caravan?"
"First of all—"
Philip took a look to his left and right.
The paved roads were quite wide, enough space for two carriages to pass through side-by-side. This road seemed to be a major source of income for Baron Delvin.
There were lush forests to the sides of the road but the closest spots to the road where bandits would usually hide, had been cleared completely down to just grass.
The forest was under human management, apparently to allow pigs to forage the grounds for acorns and the like, so there was no need for them to be on alert for monsters or wild beasts.
If that's the case—
"We'll set up the ambush in the forest."
"I see. If that's the case, I know of a suitable spot. There's a patch of forest where twigs, weeds, and whatnot have already been cleared out, that could allow us to retreat on horseback. How do you feel about that?"
"Such a place exists?"
"Indeed. When Philip-kakka decided to launch the ambush in these lands we knew something like that was necessary, so we took the time to prepare that spot."
Philip had repeatedly chosen this patch of land for the ambush in their previous meetings. Though he had asked Wayne and Igor for their opinions, both of them deferred to Philip. It must have been quite troublesome for them to make preparations after that.
"Then I'm truly grateful to you."
"Nonsense, since you had to take on the risks of leading the first charge, what we did was just our fair share, right?"
"It's just as Wayne-kakka had surmised!"
The two led Philip to the site and it was just as they had described. There shouldn't be an issue for horses to gallop if the grounds were in this condition.
As he finished his discussion with the two, Philip simply walked back to his soldiers.
Philip couldn't stop sweating because of his full-plate armor, and because they were on uneven ground, his helmet could cause him to lose his balance and fall over easily.
"Whooo, whooo!"
Philip wheezed heavily as he took off his helmet to clip on below his waist. He took out a handkerchief and began to furiously wipe his forehead.
Philip felt like the armor was a failure. Even though an armor's defensive capabilities are its most important quality, mobility is equally as important. He seems to remember that there were enchantments that lighten armor, he'll have to ask for one of those in the future. Or perhaps an enchantment that prevents him from sweating while he's wearing the armor.
He should talk to Hilma about this the next time he's in the capital.
After making a mental note of that, he walked back to the site where he saw his soldiers bored out of their minds doing nothing.
"Sorry for the wait."
"—Milord. Who is that man who's covered his face? His appearance screams bandit. Are we being set up?"
"That's impossible, that man's obviously an esteemed noble of the Kingdom. Speaking of appearance, don't mention it. It's not as though every nobleman could afford full-plate armor."
Plus, during the battle of the Katze Plains, those families that had lost their successors also lost many heirloom weapons and armor. Philip's household was in this exact situation, if he loses this set of armor it would be difficult to acquire one again.
Though it appears the soldiers do not believe in his reasoning, there was no need to force them to accept it.
"Okay! Let's wait till the caravan arrives! After it does, we'll attack it immediately!"
Philip heard no response and raised his voice.
"Do you understand?!!"
"Understood…"
Though everybody answered begrudgingly, their voices in unison were still loud enough to be heard.
Philip was unsatisfied with their response, but he'll have to leave it at that.
This is their first battle after all, there was no need for them to meet all expectations.
For them to develop into excellent soldiers, they will have to focus on the most immediate problems at hand.
As Philip mulled over these thoughts, he sat on the ground as if his body was giving in to the desire for rest.
-x-X-x-
A vast criminal syndicate known as the Eight Fingers lurked in the shadows of the Kingdom.
There existed eight divisions within the syndicate, one of them being the smuggling division. Christopher Olsen, a member of said division, sported the face of an honest merchant. His words carried quite a bit of weight on the major trade route connecting the royal capital to the west side of the Kingdom. As such, he'd had the first-hand experience of having his warehouses be looted clean of various types of goods during Jaldabaoth's rampage.
They had substantial losses but it did not spell the end for his company. Still, a considerable amount of time was now necessary to recover those losses, so he found it to be a necessity to borrow a portion of the funds from the Eight Fingers.
You've got to spend money to make money, that was how businesses operated. Of course, it could also lead to greater losses, but as long as he kept his head down and avoided unnecessary risks, there was not much to worry about.
Borrowing money from Eight Fingers, however, would start one down the gradual path towards losing oneself. The Eight Fingers would force merchants who had made losses into criminal activities such as smuggling, selling or transporting narcotics.
Merchants fell into this trap quite often.
So what about Christopher, who had already been ensnared?
In order to borrow money, he'd had a meeting with the leaders of the divisions, which shocked him, to say the least. Christopher belonged to the smuggling division, so the management of loans should have been done by his superiors in the same division. Meetings with the executives of the other divisions should have been an impossibility.
Despite all of this, he got to meet with the top brass. Was it because his accomplishments had earned him a high recommendation? Or was it some other reason unbeknownst to him? He couldn't figure out why even after the meeting had concluded. The only thing that he was certain of was his suspicions towards the divisions' leaders' unusually friendly attitude towards him, knowing full well how they were feared even by the dark side of society.
Of course, goodwill from mafia heads could just as easily be faked as anything else.
Another thing that caught his attention was the fact that they, befitting their status at the highest echelon of the organization, apparently took their own health quite seriously. While he wondered if they were perhaps a bit too skinny, they were definitely healthier compared to his overweight body.
Such people of importance had given him a job on the spot.
The kind of job to be given out depended on various factors, such as the amount of money borrowed, the value of the person as a human being, and whether that person could be of use to Eight Fingers in the future. Those with better ratings were given safer jobs and vice versa.
The job given to him was—
"—Transportation of the Sorcerer Kingdom's grain, huh. Whether or not it's safe is still unclear, hm."
"Hm, what's the matter? Did you say something, sir?"
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just mumbling to myself."
The one to respond to his question was the leader of the mercenary division.
He was a robust man.
Very much different from Christopher, who was in his forties and saved up a thick layer of fat around his waist. The man was young, sharp, and apparently only in his twenties.
He wore a steel chestplate with chainmail underneath. A helmet that could cover his entire face sat next to him, together with a well-worn sword.
The man was the leader in charge of protecting the Sorcerer Kingdom's grain caravan, which consisted of seven horse-drawn carriages and wagons.
The security detail consisted of 24 people in total, all of which were employed by Eight Fingers and like Christopher himself, belonged to the smuggling division.
Though they were members of the same department, they still charged for their service and at a rate higher than that of mercenaries of a similar level nonetheless. On the other hand, they no longer had to worry about information leakage for secret missions as they were more loyal to the mission at hand.
In the face of threats that couldn't be taken care of, regular mercenaries would probably just abandon the mission, but these men would fight as rearguards to their death. This was understandable, as abandoning the mission would cost the higher-ups their dignity; as a result, they would have been hunted down and murdered even if they were to make it out alive.
Therefore, for someone like Christopher who did not know of any trustworthy mercenaries, these men from the Eight Fingers were probably his best choice. But then again, for this mission, they were his only choice.
It was a direct order from the higher-ups to use these men.
To make up for the lack of options, they were to provide their services for free and so he had surplus funds to hire even more mercenaries. However, hiring extra mercenaries would be seen as a sign of distrust towards the men. Never mind the fact that their employment was specified by the top brass, so hiring other mercenaries could be seen as him disobeying their orders.
After giving it some thought, Christopher decided against hiring extra mercenaries.
Moreover, all of the guards appeared to be quite capable, but of course, Christopher, who was no warrior, could not properly grasp their strength. That was not a problem however, as the higher-ups have vouched for them by claiming that they were outstanding. Going against orders would be dangerous regardless of the reason.
That being said, if he were to be asked whether he felt it was safe to depart with such a small detail, he would have wished for more capable men.
It would have been great if he could borrow a boss from the security department, a member of the Six Arms, the enforcement group of the Eight Fingers. Needless to say, that wish would never come true.
It was said that the Six Arms, including its leader Zero, who was said to be the strongest warrior in all of the Eight Fingers, was exterminated in a conflict with the royal family, just before the calamity caused by Jaldabaoth.
Credible intel attributed their defeat to Brain Unglaus, a warrior serving under the Golden Princess.
It would be outrageous to assume that all six of them were defeated by a single person, but apparently Blue Rose, an adamantite-ranked adventurer group, had joined the fight as well. Christopher deduced from this that it was most likely a six-vs-six battle.
The security department was said to have lost most of its members in the battle. At the moment, every department was building up a force of its own to compensate for the loss, to the point where even members of the assassination division began to operate out in the light.
Nevertheless, this managed to improve the mood of those within the Eight Fingers to the point where it was now better than it was before the appearance of Jaldabaoth.
Internal conflicts were rife in the past and it wasn't unlikely for one to fall victim to dirty tricks being played behind their backs. Some merchants were even reported to the authorities by people from the other departments during the most crucial stages of a smuggling mission.
At the moment, however, the higher-ups were being so cooperative with each other that it was almost disgusting to think of.
Business had expanded as a result and illegal profits from each endeavor grew too.
"Puhuuu-ahhh."
The mercenary leader farted audibly while yawning. It was an unavoidable physiological phenomenon, and he had no intention to apologize.
A disgraceful action.
Christopher frowned. That was the worst sound to wake up to from a daydream.
He honestly wanted to complain, but this man was to be his companion during the trip to and from Re-Lovell, a large port city on the west side of the Kingdom.
His desire to maintain a friendly relationship with him suppressed his desire to complain.
Ships would be used to transport the cargo from Re-Lovell to the Holy Kingdom, so that would be the job of a certain maritime merchant. He was a great man and Christopher knew him well. It came as a surprise to him that the man was also a member of Eight Fingers, but he claimed they were collaborating solely for the mutual benefits.
Still, he couldn't help but worry.
"You seem relaxed. You don't think anyone's going to attack?"
"Hm? Oh, I haven't gotten that stinging feeling, so no prob— Oh, you probably wanted to say that feelings can't be trusted, eh? Well, I understand where you're coming from, but you surely have also had moments when you thought 'this will work out fine,' right? There are also times where you have had a bad feeling about something, so you try to plan for it, and it ended up being true, or something."
"…Yeah, I've had those experiences."
"See? Our past experiences can function as our intuition."
The mercenary leader spoke in a tone that didn't seem to match his appearances at all.
"See. Well, we're also flying the Sorcerer Kingdom's flag. Only ignorant villagers-turned-bandits would dare attack such a caravan, in which case, we can easily take care of even a hundred of them."
"What if it isn't villagers?"
"Are you worrying about down and out mercenaries? Would they not be able to recognize the flag of the Sorcerer Kingdom, the hottest of all topics?" he shrugged, "experienced mercenaries are surprisingly well-informed. Those who don't even know of the flags of the countries around don't scare me at all. …Looks like you're not buying it. Think about it, wouldn't it be worrying to not know which noble you're picking a fight with? You wouldn't want to get into trouble that way, would you?"
"That makes sense… I'm curious, which nobles are the riskiest to pick a fight with?"
"About that — for example the famous ones like Raeven and Boullope. The likes of them have strong armies stationed within their own territories and it'd be dangerous to bump into them. Well, they both suffered great losses in that war, so maybe they're not as dangerous as before… Still, shouldn't be careless.
Blumrush pays well so I don't wanna get on his bad side… Well, I simply just don't want enmity from any of the noble lords."
"But you're being backed by a criminal syndicate. Are you being serious?"
"So are you, right? If I get into trouble with them, the big shots will just abandon me without a second thought. Same goes for you, yeah?"
"Yeah."
They fell silent and the mood began to feel a bit gloomy.
They were reminded of the ruthlessness of the top brass, but there was nothing they could do about it as people who were part of such an organization purely for the profits. Perhaps there was a way of life for him that did not require any connections to the organization, but that wouldn't have led to him becoming the great merchant that he is today. Perhaps he would still have had to stick to smaller business deals to this day.
The word "if" carried the connotation of an infinite number of possibilities, but without the means to travel back in time, one must be satisfied by the present.
"…Anyways, just don't worry, right? I get it. So what's the worst threat that we could face as of now?"
"If the enemy were to use flaming arrows to try and burn down the caravan — burn, not rob — that would mean that we're getting involved in some greater conspiracy — a national problem. Or a rival organization's ploy."
"An organization that could rival the Eight Fingers… Is that even possible?"
"Don't know. But even a rival group probably wouldn't want to burn the Sorcerer Kingdom's goods, unless they're confident that no clues would be left behind. Personally, I think national conspiracies or ploys from the Kingdom or other neighboring countries are far more concerning. We're probably under a higher threat to receive an attack from those sources…"
"If that's the case then there's no point in worrying about it, huh."
"Right? Anyways, it looks safe for now. Don't worry, just sit tight."
***
The caravan was soon approaching a forest.
They could utilize that fact to estimate their approximate location.
Christopher opened up a mental image of a map to confirm that they were indeed making good progress. He could finally relax. Messing up a job related to the Sorcerer Kingdom would invite some terrifying consequences.
The time was around noon. They just had to pass through this forest and then they could take a break as planned. This wasn't a wild forest, it showed signs of being well maintained by men so it shouldn't take too long for them to traverse through this place.
The sound of bolting horses could be heard within the wobbling carriage, which was when the carriage also started slowing down.
Christopher took a peek at the mercenary leader and found his aura to be completely different from just then, things were getting serious.
"Excuse me, but it looks like I have a job to do."
Two men poked their head through the portière, subordinates of the mercenary leader.
"Sorry, boss! This guy said there are a lot of villagers hiding in the forests."
The mercenary said as he turned to face Christopher. The one who he had referred to as "this guy" was their scout.
"…Not bandits, but villagers? How'd you know that?"
"Yes. First is their equipment. They were neither armored nor armed. Many of them are using hoes as improvised weapons… not clubs but hoes."
"Even rocks could be weaponized… but hoes you say? That's odd. No, were they metal hoes?"
"I couldn't get a closer look but they appeared to be made out of wood."
Christopher, who had been silently listening in to the conversation, thought that it must have just been regular villagers who were returning home after working on their farms.
"Hah? Really? Hoes? Is this a hoax…?"
"It didn't feel like that was the case…"
"Send a few men to disperse them? Maybe we're being too cautious…"
The mercenary leader mumbled.
The situation called for everyone to speak their minds, and that was probably why he was mumbling loud enough to himself for the others to hear. Probably.
"Excuse me, sorry for butting in on your conversation but can I say something?"
"Ah, that's fine. As long as it's constructive suggestions, we can never have too many of those."
"First of all, this forest is well maintained — a cultivated forest, people let their pigs forage here or something. Aren't they just here to round up their pigs? If that's the case, if we were to disperse them, it might seem as though we are trying to steal their sounder of swine. We're flying the Sorcerer Kingdom's flag too, if a rumor was to circulate that the Sorcerer Kingdom is stealing pigs… wouldn't it be bad if that country found out?"
"Tsss," the mercenary leader sucked in his lips.
Up to this point they'd had their safety guaranteed by the flag. They had the right of way through some of the cities along the way and were treated with respect because of it, but now it seemed as though the grace of the Sorcerer Kingdom had turned into shackles instead. To bring shame upon the Sorcerer Kingdom would be to bring disaster upon themselves.
That was why Christopher did not dare bring along any contraband for sale later on.
"You said there were a lot of them, how many is 'a lot'?"
"For a rough estimate… felt like there were around 50 men."
"I think that's too much manpower for simple farm work, what about you?"
He was the one to bring farm work up, but his parents were merchants too.
Christopher had no experience raising pigs.
"No, no. I don't know if that's too many or too little. I have no idea how many people are necessary to catch a pig. Maybe they're here to plant more trees, or even cut down some. I heard there were also some types of farm work that require pigs or something…"
Well, if they brought hoes, then that would be more likely.
"Then, what about the noble of this land? Any tales of him working his serfs to death?"
Christopher kneaded his thick neck as he replied.
"No, I had seen him once in the past. He's pretty young but also highly reliable. His demesne has also been stable under his management. If he was to learn more about the etiquette of the aristocracy and political strategies, he would have a bright future ahead of himself."
.