Chapter 84: You Burned Supply Bases?

"I’m glad you made it back safely. I heard about your exploits in the north."

"Where did you hear that? I haven’t even reported yet."

"Haha, a courteous letter from Count Épinay was delivered to Count Euz."

According to Count Euz, who’d seen the letter, it proposed abandoning cowardly ambushes in favor of a proper pitched battle between nobles the next day. Even though his raiding parties had been smashed by our guerrilla forces and his reputation had taken a major hit, the count had supposedly gritted his teeth and sent a courteous letter befitting a self-proclaimed great nation’s noble, which was very satisfying.

But word about the supply bases burning and the loss of his prized Hungarian horse apparently hadn’t reached him yet. Probably a timing issue. I, a mere duchy knight, had completely crushed the enemy commander-in-chief’s (the count’s) reputation. Even I thought I’d done something absolutely outrageous.

Michael marveled at the horses in the temporary ranch.

"Did you go out horse hunting or something? How’d you get so many?"

"I focused on horses since they’re easier to lead than heavy loot."

"Makes sense. The unit you led isn’t a raiding party, after all. Huh?"

But Michael’s eyes went wide at the sight of Mont Blanc. Michael knows horses pretty well. He’d carefully selected five horses from those captured in the battle near Feuzen, and among them, Rotbraun was the best.

That’s why Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Mont Blanc.

"It’s a Hungarian steed named Mont Blanc."

"Hungarian? Good lord, how’d you get your hands on such an expensive horse?"

"I’ll tell you the details later. First, I need to report to His Highness the Crown Prince."

"That’s more important. Let’s go. Everyone’s waiting for you."

With Michael grinning, I entered the audience hall to find the Crown Prince, Count Euz, and my father-in-law. But Count Euz and my father-in-law weren’t getting along; they were glaring at each other and growling like dogs. Michael explained that the regional lord and the War Minister’s family clashed every time they met.

He called it just a light greeting.

One more greeting and there’d be bloodshed.

This was the chronic power struggle between central and regional authorities, and because the chain of command was never unified, we sometimes lost winnable wars. This happened all the time in most nations, and France’s early stumbles in the Hundred Years’ War were partly caused by this too.

But compared to France, which began building an absolute monarchy after the Hundred Years’ War, the Holy Roman Empire was still fragmented, and instead of uniting, its territories still fought to seize each other’s lands. The miniature version of that was the conflict between regional lords and the central government within principalities.

"Since duchy forces are deployed, shouldn’t the count’s soldiers come under my command?"

"Hmph, I command my own soldiers. You can command the duchy forces."

Count Euz showed blatant displeasure at my father-in-law’s demand.

Naturally, veins bulged on our hot-blooded father-in-law’s forehead.

"Don’t you know that military authority falls to me once you’ve received duchy support?"

"I’m merely exercising my legitimate feudal contract rights. Everything about Euz can only be decided by the Euznirk family. I appreciate the duchy’s support, but I cannot accept demands beyond that."

"Can’t you both stop? We have Burgundy, a powerful enemy, right in front of us. Even with duchy and count forces cooperating, it’s barely enough—yet you can’t see eye to eye."

Caught in the middle, the Crown Prince must have gotten a harsh dose of reality seeing central and regional antagonism firsthand. I was surprised they hadn’t been swallowed by Burgundy yet. Well, Burgundy had mostly withdrawn from wars for external reasons (Joan of Arc, Holland rebellion).

"The only legitimate ruler who can give us orders is Euznirk!"

"You requested duchy support, yet all you do is run your mouth! Country bumpkins!"

Last time in the audience hall, only a few people had been present, but this time quite a crowd had gathered, facing off. Divided into left and right camps, they were bickering like miniature versions of Count Euz and my father-in-law—no different from a marketplace. I hadn’t expected to walk into this scene right after returning.

On the left were people I knew, including knights and lieutenants commanding duchy forces. And those on the right seemed to be Count Euz’s vassals. They were jockeying for dominance, and the Crown Prince, caught between them, was just sighing.

Worry was etched across the handsome Crown Prince’s face.

He’d ascend to grand duke someday, but he’d been confronted with reality too early.

Good educational experience. A realistic king is wiser than a dreaming one.

"Sir Streit! We’ve been waiting for your return."

The Crown Prince brightened at the sight of Michael and me.

Then the confrontation between both sides vanished as if it had never existed.

I suddenly became the center of everyone’s attention.

What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Go back to fighting.

"I carried out Your Highness’s orders and achieved considerable results."

"I know. That’s why a courteous letter came to Count Euz from the Burgundian side."

As the Crown Prince’s gaze turned to Count Euz, the count, who’d been rigid from his standoff with my father-in-law, had his attendant deliver the letter to me. No, you didn’t need to show me. It was exactly as I’d heard from Michael. The letter was written in very courteous French.

Anyone who didn’t know French couldn’t even read it. The contents were relatively straightforward: it told Count Euz to abandon cowardly ambushes and fight like nobles in a pitched battle. There was no mention anywhere of supply lines or Mont Blanc.

My hunch had been right after all. The timing had been off.

After I returned the letter to the attendant, Count Euz spoke.

"Frenchmen always try to put on airs. Can’t you feel the anger in the penmanship? Thanks to your exploits, his raiding parties collapsed—never mind the loot. His reputation must be in tatters right now. Excellent achievement, Sir Streit."

Count Euz laughed heartily as if the mere thought were refreshing. But his vassals couldn’t laugh, and their eyes held unmistakable envy. Even without checking the Manager Scouter, I knew that look all too well. They were thinking a duchy knight had stolen their glory.

But I’d carried out the Crown Prince’s orders, not Count Euz’s.

In other words, Count Euz being happy had nothing to do with them.

So if they were going to be jealous, at least they should direct it at the right person.

My father-in-law found Count Euz disagreeable, but since the praise stemmed from my achievements, he was in an awkward position, unable to attack. Seeing that, the Crown Prince, who’d been in a sour mood the whole time, actually smiled. Better change the subject so my father-in-law isn’t put in an uncomfortable spot.

"Can you really read such feelings from a letter alone?"

"Of course I can—we’ve faced each other across the border our whole lives."

They must have exchanged letters while fighting each other for decades.

"Then the next letter will probably contain every French curse in the book."

I passed the four documents and the map to my father-in-law through an attendant. My father-in-law’s eyes widened at the sight of them. He showed them to the Crown Prince, and the sharp-witted Crown Prince also grasped the situation upon seeing documents detailing enemy supplies, schedules, and positions.

"Son-in-law, how on earth did you get these?"

"Information obtained from burning two enemy supply bases."

"...You burned supply bases?"

Small gasps erupted throughout the hall. Among the nobles present, no one failed to grasp the importance of supply lines—especially an invading force’s supply lines, which carried enormous implications. Count Euz, who’d regarded me as merely a decent knight, seemed genuinely shocked.

And then I revealed my modest but wonderful prize.

"I also captured Count Épinay’s prized horse."

Michael beside me was stunned.

"Huh? Then that magnificent Hungarian horse is actually Count Épinay’s?"

"Correct. And just so we’re clear—that horse is mine."

Spoils of war belong to whoever captured them—an old unwritten rule of battle. The Crown Prince was still dazed; I’d been sent to intercept raiding parties attacking refugees but had returned after achieving the incredible feat of burning enemy supply lines. He couldn’t have imagined it. I hadn’t expected such results either.

Only my father-in-law, who’d kept his wits about him, laughed heartily and came over to clap me on the shoulder.

Cough, cough! Father-in-law, that hurts quite a bit.

Even through plate armor, the impact was no joke.