Chapter 437: The Mercy of Taking Half

Not one Swiss mercenary had been taken prisoner.

They had fought to the death rather than surrender.

The belongings of the fallen were counted as spoils, to be divided evenly among every soldier who fought that day. That evening, the officers gathered in the newly finished command tent so I could hear the casualty reports.

"Streit Gunner losses: twelve dead, twenty-three wounded."

"Duchy pikemen losses: thirty-six dead, sixty-seven wounded."

"Gale Knight losses: three dead, eight wounded."

Fifty-one dead and ninety-eight wounded in total. Beating the strongest mercenary company in the world at that cost was nothing short of a miracle. Confirmed Swiss dead numbered a staggering two hundred and forty-seven.

Losses like that would normally push any force to surrender or run, but the Swiss never stopped fighting until the Count of Basel gave up. Brutally tough, terrifying men.

Most of our casualties came from the pikemen. They had met the Swiss head-on, so they took the worst of it. Second Company in particular had been gutted.

The line had nearly collapsed, but in the end we won. It was a relief that the gunners and the Gale Knights had gotten off so lightly. The duchy pikemen’s losses were something I could do nothing about.

They weren’t Streit troops, so none of my buffs applied to them. All I could offer them was generous compensation. Rosenheim’s small population, which left me unable to raise pikemen of my own, was part of the problem too.

Time would be the only solution to that.

Population doesn’t grow just because you want it to.

"I’m sorry, my lord. I couldn’t beat him after all."

Barosi was sunk in gloom over failing to bring down the Lightning Knight. He hadn’t won, but he hadn’t lost either, and it was thanks to him that Handendorf never got to hit our flank.

What kept him from enjoying the victory was that he had stepped forward before me and sworn he would put the Lightning Knight down. He was eating himself up wondering whether his lord now thought him useless.

"The Lightning Knight gave me trouble too. Holding your own against him leaves no room to doubt your skill. Lift your head. You aren’t a defeated commander, you’re a victorious one."

"Thank you, my lord! Next time I’ll bring him down for certain!"

Barosi’s gloomy face lit right back up.

A simple man. Beside him, Herto grinned and shook his head. They’d been speaking Hungarian, so the other officers only laughed once the exchange had been translated for them.

The tension finally loosened, and the tent filled with easy talk and laughter.

A good mood. But it wasn’t time to relax yet.

"Tonight, we march on Basel."

A heavy silence settled over them. My men had been uneasy all along about me pushing into enemy territory with barely a hundred and fifty riders. But no one could talk me out of it.

The hunt was beginning.

What a beautiful moon tonight.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

I left the main force to Oscar and Gustav and crossed the border in one go at the head of a hundred and fifty Gale Knights. My men couldn’t hide their excitement at the prospect of plundering enemy land.

Under my command, the Gale Knights had been called honorable cavalry and forbidden to massacre or loot. Now that I had finally decided to plunder, all that pent-up appetite came pouring out.

Gentlemanly conduct doesn’t suit rough cavalry. Trampling and stripping the enemy without mercy is in their nature. In the Middle Ages, cavalry were such bastards that they were called the enemy of every husband alive.

"Village spotted ahead."

"Just give the order, my lord!"

Barosi and the rest were flushed with anticipation, convinced the time had finally come to loot to their hearts’ content. Had I been holding them back too tightly? I let out a snort of laughter and told them:

"Send a messenger into the village and bring me their representative."

"Sir? We’re not just riding in and taking it?"

"Sir Szolnok, I have no intention of plundering the way you all enjoy."

Barosi just blinked at me, wearing the expression of a private who’d heard an order he couldn’t quite believe. My other men looked the same. They had been all set to enjoy themselves, and I’d poured cold water over the whole thing.

"May I ask what manner of plundering you have in mind?"

"I’ll show you. Send the messenger and bring the representative."

In the end a few riders went into the village. Naturally, the arrival of the worst possible visitors in the dead of night threw the place into chaos. With the entrance surrounded, running was out of the question.

They dragged out a terrified old man.

He was forced to his knees in front of me.

"I-I am the village chief of Vandred. Who are you, my lord?"

"I am Basel’s friendly neighbor, the Lord of Rosenheim."

The old man’s face filled with horror at an answer he had never expected. He had to know that war had broken out between Basel and Rosenheim. Shaking badly, he finally bowed his head in resignation.

"Will you burn our village?"

"If you want to live, hand over what you have."

"..."

"Do you take me for a bandit? Wrong. I am your friendly neighbor. A bandit would kill you and rape your women. Burning the village down would be nothing to him."

"If we hand over what we have, you’ll let us live?"

"I won’t kill you, and I won’t touch your women."

The old man broke down sobbing. He was nothing but a powerless old man standing before a force he couldn’t resist. But sparing their lives and their women was mercy enough on my part.

He went back to the village and talked his neighbors into piling their stored food and money in front of the well. When a decent heap of silver and provisions had piled up, I looked each villager in the face, one by one.

"You didn’t bring all of it."

"Th-this is everything I have!"

"Search that man’s house."

Reading their states of mind through the Manager Scouter, I picked out the holdout as if by magic. My men went through his house with a fine-tooth comb and came out with a bundle of silver coins.

The villagers were stunned at the sight.

"He had that much money?"

"You rotten bastard! We handed over everything and you were hiding it!"

"If this village burns, are you going to answer for it?!"

"Merkel, you son of a bitch! I’ll curse you even after I’m dead!"

The villagers’ eyes turned ugly. Their hostility turned not on me, the invader, but on the man named Merkel, who had hidden his money and dragged them to the brink. The outlet for their resentment had formed exactly as I intended.

I was a disaster they could not resist, and I held the power of life and death over this village. Yet I had killed no one and touched no one. I had only applied pressure while playing the part of a kindly neighboring lord.

Because the Gale Knight was known for strictly forbidding harm to civilians, the villagers had pinned their hopes on that reputation. Then Merkel had gone and ruined it.

So every ounce of blame landed on him.

"I showed you the mercy of sparing your lives if you handed everything over quietly, and yet this man clung to his valuables more than to the fate of his village. Village chief, how will you answer for breaking our agreement?"

"Th-that, he hid it out of greed! The rest of us gave everything, just as we promised! Please, have mercy! You’re the Gale Knight, aren’t you?!"

"I am kind to my own. I show no mercy to enemies."

When I let my killing intent show, terror swept through the villagers. It felt as if a black bloodlust had swallowed the whole place. One word from me and this village would become a scene out of hell.

Barosi looked ready to draw his sword then and there.

"Sir Szolnok."

"Just give the order, my lord!"

"Take half."

"Kill them all, my... sir?"

I said it and swung up into the saddle. When I frowned, not wanting to repeat myself, Barosi jumped to it and put his men to work taking exactly half. Of course, we left most of the bulky provisions behind.

"Blame the Brist family for failing to protect you."

The villagers stared at me, dumbfounded. He’s just leaving? Enjoying their doubtful looks, I jerked my chin toward the man named Merkel, who was drowning in despair.

"Deal with him yourselves."

"Riders, mount up!"

We rode out of the village.

And a little while later, the man’s horrible scream reached us from behind.