Iâm a fairly compassionate person at heart.
I believe that kindness given comes back around someday, and from a young age I was raised to mind my behaviorâto at least never cause harm to others, even if I couldnât always do good.
That upbringing became my values and my conviction.
But the medieval era is a brutally cruel and merciless world. Religion served as the brakes that kept the nobilityâs excesses in check, but as the Church grew steeped in worldliness, even those brakes began to lose their function.
In such circumstances, nobles like me who do good deeds with no strings attached are vanishingly rare. The residents of an occupied territory are little more than the occupying armyâs spoils, unable to resist in the face of brutal violence.
Even though Fried had only sanctioned plunder, in places out of sight, massacres were carried out by mercenaries whipped into a frenzyâa tragedy that followed right on the heels of the battleâs end.
Fortunately, since massacres were officially forbidden, no further ones occurred. The fact that this alone was enough to earn Fried praise as a merciful noble tells you just how brutal occupying armies can be.
"Heâs buying them at ten silver coins a head? That noble must be loaded!"
"The ones we canât kill and canât work as slavesâsell them off to his lordship!"
"Dammit, not the women! Iâm not done yet!"
But the young and pretty women were still the occupying armyâs playthings, and I could only free them by paying a premium. Iâd initially figured on about six gold coins; thatâs how the total ended up becoming seven.
Irritation boiled up in me, but these men were nominally my allies.
I had no right to rob my allies of their spoils.
It would have been possible if Iâd been willing to endure every curse the mercenaries could throw at me, along with a hit to my reputation, but that would have cost me far too much. This was an era when waging war without mercenaries was nearly impossible.
It was far better to solve the matter with moneyâa hundred times better.
Besides, I was a one-man creative economy, capable of earning gold coins through quests.
"Hngh, thank you! Thank you, sir!"
"Ohh, the savior of Boeven! Godâs blessings upon you!"
In any case, by acquiring the rights to Boevenâs spoils (the residents) this way, I made sure the mercenaries couldnât lay a hand on them. The people were as good as my property now, so I could protect them legitimately.
Fried clicked his tongue at what he called a pointless waste of money, but he already knew that was the kind of noble I was, so he didnât make an issue of it. Benjamin, on the other hand, praised me for making a bold decision.
It had been an impulsive act of kindness born purely of compassion, with no consideration of the political situation whatsoever, but it seemed to have left a deep impression on the people of Boeven.
Their favorability toward me shot up dramatically.
Even so, it struck me as a bit unnatural for them to show this much goodwill toward a noble of the occupying army. But the system explained it was the combined effect of my prestige, my good deeds, a 10% population increase, and so on.
My family prestige stood at 2,350 points (recognition 47%, governance 47%), and this was the first time I learned that recognition could help in situations like this. It hadnât worked this way in Leben or Ladwig.
"Commander, fifty people have expressed a desire to relocate."
Anton reported this to me after conducting a survey alongside the village chief of Boeven and others. Since I knew through the system that Boevenâs remaining population was 672, fifty was quite a large number.
If they relocated to Feuzen, its population would break three hundred in one stroke, and the village could grow into a medium-sized one. That would also unlock the passive skills purchasable at medium scale.
A sudden influx of outsiders would likely cause growing pains, given how insular medieval villages are by nature, but everything has its pros and cons, so I decided to accept the relocation.
"Youâre taking them to Feuzen? Sir Streit, thatâs a sensitive matter."
"Didnât you say Iâd be given a reward? Let the migrants take its place."
"If thatâs what you want, Euznirk loses nothingâbut mere migrants as a reward?"
Fried wouldnât understand. No, most nobles wouldnât understand choosing migrants over a reward. But to me, population was worth more than monetary compensation.
Feuzenâs population was far too small, and the rebel invasion had shrunk it even further. I needed to grow it to at least five hundred before I could accomplish anything. A large population brings problems, but a small one brings worse.
Just look at the fact that my standing army was capped at ten men. That alone tells you everything.
Ten gunners is a force others would laugh at on sight.
Of course, I didnât settle the entire reward for a mere fifty people; I negotiated that, going forward, anyone in Euz who wished to relocate to Feuzen would be accepted. The land around Feuzen is quite vast, with plenty of undeveloped ground.
So its capacity to absorb population was considerable. The economy was still centered on livestock, but I planned to eventually broaden its base into crop production as well. Thatâs why I had built the ranch for raising war horses first.
Whatâs more, Feuzen is a transportation hub adjacent to Euz, Essenbach, and Baschurten. Thatâs why, unlike other villages, Feuzenâs fortifications were quite developedâenough to fend off the rebel invasion.
This was thanks to Baron Constance, who had strengthened the defenses of Feuzen, the northern border village, along with those of Hissen, which bordered the south. Thatâs why I wanted to build Feuzen into a city second only to Rosenheim.
"So now the runaways will have a legal path to settling in Feuzen."
"Are there that many runaways in Euz as well?"
"Every territory has its runaways. Always."
"Runaways" refers to commoners of unfree status (serfs or non-free residents) who, lacking the freedom to relocate, would quite commonly flee to the cities to escape a lordâs tyranny or after committing a crime.
The funny thing is that the Church, in order to save them, created a law granting free status to anyone who avoided capture for a year. Hence the joke about "one-year runaways."
Hans and Sabine, as it turned out, had been runaways themselves. Theyâd escaped a village destroyed by an epidemic and come to Breisburg. The only difference was that the Flamm family werenât serfs but non-free residents.
And now they had become close retainers of the finest knight family in Beren.
For the unfree, thatâs the kind of luck that turns the world upside down.
Hans had a tendency to get cocky about it, but fortunately, thanks to Göringâs instruction, he had picked up some humility, and now he served as the familyâs guard captain, armed with loyalty.
"Sir Knight, if itâs all right with you, could you buy our spoils as well?"
Unlike the mercenaries from the north, who had been living large thanks to me, the Swiss mercenaries had focused on plundering goods rather than people; but Boeven wasnât a particularly wealthy place, so their profits were relatively meager.
Fried had claimed Baron Boevenâs castle, and everything else had been divided among the mercenaries. But once I started buying up rights at ten silver coins a head, the Swiss mercenaries were left twiddling their thumbs.
Gedel came to me only after the cantonal officials pestered him into it, hoping to sell off the portion of the spoils they couldnât carry home. Most of it was food, and the circumstances made hauling it back impractical.
Iâd once seen a woman tearfully pleading that her children were starving because the Swiss mercenaries held a monopoly on the granary. If I simply bought it all outright, these bastards might take me for an easy mark, so I attached a condition.
"Fine. But sell the horses along with it. Thatâs my condition."
"The horses? But horses are goods the cantonal government treats as vital."
"Convince them that Iâm the only noble in these parts willing to pay a fair price for their spoils."
"Haah, understood. Whether the cantonal bureaucrats will go for it, I canât say."
Gedel shook his head and went back. It was amusing that the mightiest of mercenaries, the Swiss, were suffering at the hands of cantonal bureaucrats, but that was their culture and their way, so it wasnât my place to comment.
That night, as I was writing a letter to Hilda, Fried showed up unannounced with the finest Rosenheim wine, which heâd discovered in Baron Boevenâs wine cellar, wanting to share a drink with me.
"Rosenheim wine really does suit my palate best."
Fried seemed to be in an excellent mood, which puzzled me. It was a far cry from how heâd been latelyâalways on edge and irritable. Because of that, I hadnât been able to feel as at ease around him as before.
"Do I look like Iâm in a good mood? Truth is, I made my decision today."
"Which territory you want? Well, I have a rough guess."
"Heh heh heh, you think so too? Honestly, Hildrant being the largest gave me pause."
Comparing the three baronies, Hildrant was the largest, then Boeven, with Valent last. Since Hildrant and Valent had surrendered, their territories were intact, but Boeven had been plundered in retaliation.
Normally one would choose Hildrant, but Friedâs choice was, in the end, Valent. The reason was simple: the pleasure of seizing the territory of the man he hated most was just that great.