Chapter 318 318-Rolf's Demand
The iron bucket helmet, commonly utilized by knights, is also known as the knight helmet.
It stands as a pinnacle of protective gear, notable for its hefty production cost.
Frankly, the sight of mercenaries adorned in noble attire congregating in such numbers is a spectacle in itself.
Recently, the higher echelons of Bohemia, clouded by the bloodshed of the young, decided to embark on a daring and thrilling major campaign.
Their aim? To let the cruel and ferocious Brandenburg taste the bitterness of the people's tears.
A month later, after continuous minor skirmishes and medium-scale clashes with the Brandenburg troops, Howard and the Emperor's forces finally reached the outskirts of Berlin City.
The mercenaries hired by Bohemia, although excellent, proved prohibitively expensive.
After winning a key battle that lifted the siege of the capital, they were dismissed.
Currently, Bohemia seems to turn a deaf ear to the war situation, acting as if indifferent despite being in the midst of conflict.
As if not engaged in war at all, the nation has begun policies of recuperation and conservation.
Trade nodes are contracting, and a strong sense of protectionism is evident.
They have withdrawn from the war.
A month later, the allied forces triumphed over Brandenburg, which retreated, ceding a duchy it had previously conquered, thus moderately shrinking its influence.
The allies annexed the entirety of Bavaria, swiftly incorporating four counties.
This turned Augsburg in Bavaria into an isolated enclave.
With the full annexation of Bavaria, the strength of the allied nations surged, drawing wary and anxious eyes from neighboring countries.
In fact, Fritz III had sought Howard's counsel.
Howard believed that after expending so much in terms of finances, resources, and manpower, and finally securing victory, it was only fitting to reap some rewards.
The Emperor, twirling his beard with his hand, remained silent, feigning contemplation while secretly pleased.
However, this wasn't merely a ploy by Howard to ingratiate himself with the Emperor; it genuinely reflected his own thoughts.
After the war, Howard disbanded his troops and first visited Fernsouth Castle, which had been unoccupied for a long time.
He meticulously inspected the castle's cleanliness, ensuring every corner was spotless before feeling satisfied.
Subsequently, Howard instructed his Minister of War, Resarite, to recruit soldiers on his behalf, and also sent word to Bosiden to convey messages to vassals like Anna and Margaret, urging them to expedite the replenishment and registration of their levies.
These were but minor administrative tasks.
When Rolf met Howard again, he patted Howard on the chest and exclaimed, "Little brother, look at you! In just a few days, you've risen from a count to a marquis, and then from a marquis to a duke. I really should have believed what the Governor of Venice told you that day. Your rise through the ranks is nothing short of miraculous. Tell me, little brother, what's your secret?"
Howard responded with a half-hearted smile, "Actually, it's nothing much. It's just that the third in line for the imperial succession happens to be a friend of mine. I asked you before if you wanted to join in discussions about attacking Pisa or Luka. But you, in your impatience, left abruptly."
Rolf found a seat and gestured for a maid to brew him some coffee, saying, "I've long heard that the coffee produced in your New World territory is exceptional. I've come here specifically to taste this New World coffee."
Howard sat opposite Rolf, leaning back casually with his arms resting on the back of the sofa and his legs crossed, displaying a rather impolite demeanor.
The maid meticulously prepared the coffee, placing it respectfully before Marquis Rolf and then curtsied, departing gracefully.
Rolf, picking up a small spoon, scooped up a spoonful of coffee and savored it for a second or two.
He then remarked, indulgently, "Indeed, it's rich and aromatic. The merchants weren't exaggerating."
Howard offered a cold smile, soundless, a mere flicker of expression.
He remained silent, simply watching as Rolf finished his coffee and requested a refill.
Howard's patience was remarkable, and he even closed his eyes in an unguarded semblance of rest.
Despite Howard's harsh words, he harbored a deep-seated trust for Rolf, considering the latter's previous assistance.
Eventually, Rolf, unable to contain himself, asked, "Howard, could you gift me your New World territory in North Carolina? My sources tell me it has grown to a population of over five hundred, nearly a city now."
Howard's eyes narrowed, a hint of murderous intent flickering.
"I hope you're joking," he said tersely.
It was rare for Howard to reveal such a fierce side, but Rolf had indeed touched upon his core interests.
Rolf, oblivious to the tension, continued, "Look, Howard, you don't understand much about the New World. It's really nothing special. Most areas there are undeveloped, and even if you possess them, they're just worthless land. It's better to hand them over to me. I can even compensate you with a sum of gold."
Howard, now visibly angered, stood up abruptly.
His figure was rigid, the sunlight slanting into the castle, casting half of his body in light and the other in shadow.
Rolf, unaware of Howard's growing ire, kept pressing his point.
Howard's roar echoed through the room, and Margaret, followed by five or six agile figures, entered.
Dressed in a flowing red robe, her attire was entirely crimson, with slender yellow streamers at the cuffs and a lethally reflective curved dagger at her waist.
Approaching Rolf, she pointed the dagger at him and said, "My lord, I must ask you to leave. I seldom play with daggers and am not very adept. An accidental slip causing harm to a noble would be most unfortunate."
Margaret's swift and skilled entourage swiftly encircled Rolf, who was still seated on the sofa.
From beneath their deep red robes, they drew weapons, heightening the tension.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Rolf decided to depart.
He initially wanted to speak but recoiled as Margaret's dagger, hidden under her robe, nudged against his kidney, turning his face pale.
He wisely chose to leave without further comment.
After Rolf's departure, Margaret approached Howard and inquired with concern, "Lord Howard, are you alright? You seem unwell."
Howard spoke gravely, "I had no intention of harming him. I am grateful for the ideas he gave me for New World trade. But now that he has shown covetous intentions towards my New World territory, I find myself compelled to..."
Margaret interjected, "Shall I assassinate him for you?"
Howard turned to look into her eyes and said sternly, "Remember who you are, Margaret! You are a noble in pursuit of honor! You are my vassal! Do not engage in dishonorable deeds!"
Margaret bowed her head in acknowledgment.
Howard then walked towards the window, adding, "There's no need to kill him."
As evening fell, Howard sat alone in the tower, lost in thought about Rolf's matter, gazing at the scenery.
Boshni found him there and asked, "Lord Howard, what are you doing here?"
Without a word, Howard simply took a sip of wine, his gaze fixed on the north.
Boshni asked a few more questions, but Howard remained silent.
He was still undecided; after all, Rolf had been good to Howard.
Not only had Rolf helped Howard make a fortune by hunting fierce beasts in Romagna and Ferrara, but he had also been willing to include Howard in ventures to the New World for trade.
Howard reconsidered the situation but couldn't come to a decision.
Seeing Howard's silence, Boshni sat down beside him and began to speak on her own accord, "Lord Howard, I used to be involved in horse breeding. I did it well, so well that even our supervisor praised my work. Under my care, the foals grew quickly and well, and the mares had safer births. But now, I hear people say that cavalry isn't important anymore, that breeding horses is meaningless. Is that true, Lord Howard?"
Howard turned his head slightly and glanced at Boshni.
He couldn't bear to deceive her and said honestly, "To tell you the truth, nowadays, all the major lords are focusing on musketeers and artillery. It's true."
Tears welled up in Boshni's eyes, on the brink of crying.
Howard continued, "It's not just you, a horse breeder, who should be crying. It's the countless feudal nobles who have relied on cavalry as their primary military force. You might have lost a job, but they might lose their lives. When the warrior nobility no longer possess the greatest military power, their rule will face challenges and come to an end. The angered populace might very well push them to the guillotine."
Boshni, with tears in her eyes, lamented, "What should I do then? I had hopes of becoming a noble through my achievements in horse breeding. I too long for bread and fine wine."
Howard gently wiped the tears from Boshni's face, looking at her with a tender gaze, and said, "Foolish child, horse breeding alone cannot grant you a noble status. If you wish to be a noble, just tell me. I can have you join me in leading troops, starting from the ground up. Accumulating military achievements will give us a justifiable reason to bestow upon you the title of a knight."
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