Medieval Knight System: Building the Strongest Empire Ever!

Chapter 403: The Fuse I Lit Myself

The proud cavalry would probably have sneered at ground pounders putting on airs, but to the duchy soldiers—fellow infantry—our gunners’ new-style uniforms and crisp drill seemed to hold considerable appeal.

"Please spare me! I’ll never do it again!"

"Aaaargh! I did nothing wrong! Nothing wrong, I tell you!"

Dressel and his gang were dragged out and bound to wooden posts.

They struggled to the very end, but after a beating they hung limp.

"It has been established that the criminal Dressel and three accomplices not only deceived the lord but sowed division in Feuzen and plotted treason. These criminals, who broke their oaths and even committed blasphemy, shall be executed on this spot. Gunners, make ready!"

The role of herald fell to Wentner, now the official estate manager of Feuzen. From now on he will oversee Feuzen’s administration in my stead, and proceedings like this will help establish his authority.

The waiting gunners moved in perfect order. This was their first official duty, and I’d heard they had practiced countless times to avoid any mistake. They were so well drilled that their muzzles didn’t even waver.

The guns were already loaded, so the men carried the flame over to their match cords and fitted them into the firing mechanisms. Pull the trigger, and the ignition would set off the charge and send the ball flying.

Oscar and Ted carried swords rather than guns.

As officers, they had no need to fire themselves.

"Take aim!"

The arquebus muzzles pointed squarely at the bound criminals. The great crowd watched with bated breath. Nearby, Andreas was crossing himself in prayer.

"Fire!"

Crack! Bang! Bang! Crack!

Fire spat from the mechanisms and the muzzles as a massive volley of gunfire echoed across the quiet makeshift execution ground, and the thick powder smoke set several onlookers coughing and spitting curses.

The crowd had grown surprisingly used to the sound of gunfire, since we held live-fire training about five times a month, but the smoke was another matter entirely; its strange, acrid stench left them reeling.

"Damn it, why is this smoke so foul?"

"Cough! Cough! Th-the condemned? Cough!"

"Looks like they’re all dead. Not as impressive as I expected."

The deaths of the criminals, their bodies riddled with lead, amounted to nothing more than light gossip.

The corpses of Dressel and his gang are to be buried outside Feuzen, since criminals have no right to rest in blessed ground (the church). Having committed blasphemy on top of everything else, they earned no sympathy either.

In the afternoon, I summoned the duchy army commander.

With the migrant problem resolved, what remained was the matter of the prisoners.

"We’ve sorted them by place of origin, as you ordered."

"I will be sure to report your dedication to the Inspector General."

"Thank you, my lord."

I have no authority to give orders to a duchy army commander, but thanks to this kind of mutual back-scratching, they rarely refused my requests.

I had them sorted by origin because of Leben and Ladwig.

I had managed to save Leben by arriving in time and driving off the raiding mercenaries, but sadly Ladwig was reduced to ruins, and most of its residents scattered to the winds.

And with Euz coveting Öderlen and dragging Belfort and me into it, I might just be able to claim Leben and Ladwig for myself. It was a wait with no promise of an end, but I had ways of stirring the pot.

The standards for territorial boundaries are vague, which makes them a constant source of border disputes and resource wars. A village on the border was also a good way to let my influence seep across.

On the map, the territories of Leben and Feuzen share a border, and in the ambiguous stretch of that boundary sat a small hamlet called Moltheim. Of course, the mercenaries had burned that hamlet down as well.

I intend to make use of it. Because of the Geerhilt family’s betrayal, Feuzen very nearly went up in flames, and I still haven’t forgotten that grudge.

I nearly lost Hilda and my retainers, and the memory still jolts me awake at night. Now that I’ve become a prince in my own right, it’s time to pay those damned lechers back.

I had a representative from each place of origin brought in. The men from Leben and Ladwig entered the office looking bewildered, and with gunners standing guard at the manor, they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the uniforms.

"Is the prison camp bearable?"

"Thanks to your consideration, my lord, we’re getting by well enough, but not knowing how our families are faring is suffocating. Could you possibly tell us any news of Leben?"

"I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Leben was raided by mercenaries and half of it burned down."

"What? Th-then Ladwig?!"

"Ladwig took the worse of it. The place is nearly in ruins now."

Their confused stares turned on me. They probably assumed I had burned the villages in retaliation for the invasion of Feuzen. Well, they had no information, so the suspicion was reasonable enough.

"If I had burned your villages, do you think your heads would still be on your shoulders while you sat as my prisoners? We believe it was the work of Scottish and Saxon mercenaries. Your own allies raided your homes. By the time we rode to the rescue, it was already far too late."

"Then what in the world was the Geerhilt family doing? They’re supposed to protect our villages!"

"Far from protecting you, they didn’t even send relief supplies. Instead I, their enemy, looked after your villages in their place. I can send you home right now to see for yourselves."

Despair and silence hung heavy in the office. For men who had left their families behind to come all this way, it must have been the most horrific news in the world. All the more so because their own ruler had abandoned them.

"Baschurten invaded Feuzen and earned a grudge from me that can never be washed away. Even so, if I am inclined to show the people of Baschurten mercy, it is because I pity your plight."

"...Is there something you want from us, my lord?"

"I’ll release you without any conditions. But even if you return home, there’s no estate manager there; the place has simply been left to rot. Won’t you suffer from bandit raids and every other problem imaginable?"

The Geerhilt family will not protect you. If the house charged with defending Baschurten forgets its duty and abandons its own lands, nothing could be more hopeless than that.

The Leben and Ladwig representatives looked at each other.

On the Ladwig man’s face in particular, I could read a deep hostility.

"You know the hamlet called Moltheim, I take it?"

"Yes. We stayed there briefly on our way into Feuzen."

"And did you know that the ground it was built on belongs to Feuzen?"

"What? Th-that’s the first I’ve heard of it."

"Of course it is. The Geerhilt family built the hamlet behind the royal family’s back."

Moltheim is a hamlet that didn’t exist in Baron Constance’s day.

After the baron’s line died out and the area passed to an estate manager dispatched by the royal family, Baschurten quietly built a hamlet there. All of it to extend Baschurten’s influence.

Why else would the Baschurten bastards build a hamlet in a spot where a border dispute was bound to erupt? The estate managers, content to maintain the status quo, would have avoided conflict wherever possible. The answer is obvious.

"I intend to take Moltheim back. But rebuilding a village takes people, and unfortunately Rosenheim doesn’t have the population to spare for settling the place. What do you say to moving in yourselves?"

The representatives were shaken. Understandably so; anyone could see the potential for conflict was enormous. One wrong step and they would be the ones to pay for it. It was such blatant conflict-stoking that I could understand their hesitation.

"If you settle in Moltheim, I promise substantial support. I won’t abandon you the way the Geerhilt scum did, and I intend to build a solid fortress centered on the hamlet. All you have to do is live peaceful lives under my protection."

"...I will follow your will, my lord."

The Ladwig representative seemed to have made up his mind.

At that, the Leben representative was stunned.

"H-have you lost your mind? You’d abandon Baschurten?"

"You’re the one who needs to wake up! Geerhilt is no longer our ruler! The damned mercenaries they hired burned our homes to ash, and you still want to keep living in Baschurten?!"

"This isn’t ours to decide! We have to ask what the people back home want!"

They may be representatives, but they don’t hold the authority to decide. So before the argument could escalate, I sent them back with instructions to first find out whether their people were willing to settle in Moltheim.

Ferke, who had been watching, voiced his concern.

"My lord, did you deliberately light this fuse?"

"When the Geerhilt scum find out, they’ll be in an uproar."

"It could well spark another war."

"Sir Ferke, there will be no war."

Ferke could find no reply to words spoken with such conviction.

The logic is very simple. The Geerhilt family is currently divided.