Chapter 219: The Enemy You Didn’t See Coming
Landjäger, a staple dried food from the Baden region (northern Beren) in Swabia, is pork cured in salt and dried, prized since ancient times as a field ration for its excellent portability.
It’s very salty, but during wartime, it’s better to eat strongly seasoned food. And the exhausted villagers of Ladwig filled their starving bellies, grateful for the mercy I’d shown them.
Before I left, an old man called out to me.
"Who are you, gracious knight, and where do you hail from?"
"I am the Lord of Feuzen, Streit."
We left Ladwig and pushed further north. When we spotted what we believed to be the Öderlen area, we took cover in a nearby forest to send out scouts, but as luck would have it, a local resident spotted us first.
The cavalrymen raced over and brought back a girl who’d been out gathering herbs. The sight of her trembling and begging for her life reminded me of Sabine. The sinister gleam in the cavalrymen’s eyes wasn’t my imagination.
It was only a matter of time before they’d start complaining about pent-up urges and demanding permission to have their way with women. Damn them. This is why I hate rough cavalrymen. They were fundamentally different from my men in character.
"Are soldiers from another region still stationed here?"
"Eek! Please spare me! I have someone I love!"
"Nobody’s going to do anything to you. Just answer the question."
"Mommy! Waaah! Daddy, save me!"
I couldn’t even get a question in.
Fiel looked at me, then at the girl, and burst out laughing.
I hadn’t seen him laugh like that in a long time.
Hey, Anton. If you’re going to laugh, don’t hide it. Just laugh out loud with everyone else.
"I think she’s scared because you look intimidating, Commander."
"I look intimidating? You’re serious?"
"Look in a mirror. You’ve got this aura of authority, Commander. Anyone would be afraid."
At Fiel’s words, I unconsciously touched my face.
Having an intimidating presence is a good thing for a lord.
Had I changed without realizing it?
"Anton, am I really that scary?"
"I’m fine with it, but the townspeople were definitely afraid of you, Commander."
"I thought it was just my imagination, but I guess it wasn’t."
I’d chalked it up to me wiping out the wealthy farmers in one fell swoop, but that wasn’t it.
Except for Hilda and the handmaids, the village girls had always been terrified whenever they saw me, and it was probably because of the F-Rank Lord trait. I couldn’t think of any other explanation.
When Fiel smiled gently and soothed her, the girl stopped crying right away. She even blushed when she looked at him. Hey, didn’t you say you had someone you loved? So much for that.
"The foreign soldiers left three days ago."
Through the girl, we learned that the Count of Basel’s forces stationed in Öderlen had moved north. Three days ago, so not long at all. The Count of Basel had advanced toward Euz.
His supply bases at Ladwig and Leben had been wrecked, and he’d marched north without knowing? If his provisions were tight, he was going to be in a world of hurt.
I could only hope Fried was handling things on his end.
Öderlen hadn’t suffered any damage from the mercenaries yet. So when I sent the girl back, I warned her that if any bands of mercenaries tried to enter the village, they were bandits and should not be let in.
Whether the girl, nodding her head furiously as she ran back to the village, would actually relay the message properly was anyone’s guess. Viktor was worried that our presence near Öderlen would become known and a pursuit force might be assembled.
But knowing the nature of these villages better than anyone, I was certain they wouldn’t come after us. Insular villages like these focused on defense rather than offense.
"Fair point. There’s no way a village like that would have cavalry."
"More importantly, if the enemy forces in Euz link up with Baron Valent, things could get tough."
"We don’t have nearly enough cavalry to attack a force of 1,200."
With around 300 riders, it’d be doable, but that was an enormous gamble. It might be better to hit them from behind while they were locked in a standoff with Fried.
The problem was that the Count of Basel was a guerrilla warfare expert himself.
Wouldn’t he have set up some kind of countermeasure to prevent exactly that kind of surprise attack?
Still, one thing working in our favor was that the enemy’s supply situation was a mess. When the Count of Basel found out what had happened to his supply bases, courtesy of our side, I’d have loved to see the look on his face.
Even without the mercenaries, I would have attacked the supply villages myself, but I wouldn’t have steamrolled them like that. My approach would have been to occupy the village, allow sanctioned plundering of valuables, and then burn the supplies.
Massacres were absolutely off limits.
That was the bare minimum, the line I’d never cross.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Hm? Halt!"
Anton waved the flag frantically, and the column stopped.
Viktor looked at me, puzzled.
"What’s wrong?"
"Viktor, enemies."
Tension gripped the air in an instant.
I’d detected unseen enemies so many times by now that it was becoming routine, but Viktor still marveled at my intuition. Fiel smirked, remarking that even he was getting used to it—almost frighteningly so.
While we headed north, a scouting party appeared on the Commander Scouter’s radar. They belonged to the Count of Basel’s detachment. Exactly the people I’d been looking for. The scouts were moving south along the road.
They’d probably been sent to check on the situation in Öderlen and the state of the supply lines. Naturally, I ducked into the nearest forest. Having plenty of places to hide was a real blessing. The scouting party had no idea.
Hidden in the woods, we waited for the scouts to pass. When a truly small patrol appeared, the cavalrymen murmured among themselves about what amazing instincts I had.
The scouting party was taken down with ease.
You could barely even call it a fight.
A measly ten or so riders against roughly 300? They didn’t stand a chance. The brainless Essenbach dragoons nearly killed every last one of them, and we barely managed to keep one alive.
"Gah! Who are you people? Attacking without warning like that!"
"You’re the enemy. That’s why we attacked. The Count of Basel sends his regards."
"...Th-that crest. Don’t tell me... Streit?"
Two longswords crossed in an X over a blue shield. A dead-simple crest, and the symbol of the Streit family. After I’d become a lord, a ribbon motif with wind-swept flourishes had been added as an upgrade.
If I ever became a prince, I could upgrade the crest another level. For instance, if I became the Prince of Rosenheim, I’d incorporate the Rosenheim crest into my own. That’s how most crests worked.
Which is why looking at the Habsburg crest was an absolute headache.
"What was the Count of Basel’s purpose in sending you?"
"I’ll never talk! Kill me if you must!"
"Don’t even need you to answer. Your supply lines are shot, aren’t they?"
"...So it was you bastards after all!"
It wasn’t actually my doing, but the mercenaries’ attack on the supply villages had created a major variable in the Euz campaign. And the scouting party sent to investigate the cause had been captured by me.
The Count of Basel was just unlucky.
So I kindly explained to the surviving scout what the Saxon and Scottish mercenaries had done. Naturally, he didn’t believe me. He dismissed it as a disinformation tactic, but why would I bother?
Attacking the enemy’s supply villages would already be credited to me anyway. So why go through the trouble of lying to deny it? That reasoning actually got through to the scout.
The scout was horrified by the mercenaries’ actions.
And when he learned that Ladwig had been reduced to ashes, the shock hit him hard. He slumped to the ground, devastated. The reason I’d gone to such lengths to persuade him was that this scout was from Ladwig.
"We managed to save Leben, but for Ladwig, it was already too late."
"..."
"If you want to see for yourself, I’ll let you go."
"...Why didn’t House Geerhilt come to save our village?"
The family ruling Baschurten was House Geerhilt. This young man had been conscripted as a scout for the foreign army, and now the guilt of failing to protect his hometown was eating him alive. He told me everything.
"The Count of Basel has made contact with Baron Valent of Euz."
"They’ve joined forces, just as I expected. How many are we looking at?"
"I can’t say for certain, but roughly 2,000."
"Are there any forces in their ranks that we don’t know about?"
The scout thought it over carefully, then spoke.
"There’s a Swiss mercenary company."
