Free Web NovelChapter 238: Mere Migrants as a Reward
I’m 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 behavior—to at least never cause harm to others, even if I couldn’t 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 nobility’s 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 army’s 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 frenzy—a tragedy that followed right on the heels of the battle’s 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.
"He’s buying them at ten silver coins a head? That noble must be loaded!"
"The ones we can’t kill and can’t work as slaves—sell them off to his lordship!"
"Dammit, not the women! I’m not done yet!"
But the young and pretty women were still the occupying army’s playthings, and I could only free them by paying a premium. I’d initially figured on about six gold coins; that’s 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 I’d 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 money—a 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! God’s blessings upon you!"
In any case, by acquiring the rights to Boeven’s spoils (the residents) this way, I made sure the mercenaries couldn’t 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 didn’t 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 hadn’t 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 Boeven’s 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. ƒreewebɳovel.com
"You’re taking them to Feuzen? Sir Streit, that’s a sensitive matter."
"Didn’t you say I’d be given a reward? Let the migrants take its place."
"If that’s what you want, Euznirk loses nothing—but mere migrants as a reward?"
Fried wouldn’t understand. No, most nobles wouldn’t understand choosing migrants over a reward. But to me, population was worth more than monetary compensation.
Feuzen’s 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 didn’t 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. That’s why I had built the ranch for raising war horses first.
What’s more, Feuzen is a transportation hub adjacent to Euz, Essenbach, and Baschurten. That’s why, unlike other villages, Feuzen’s fortifications were quite developed—enough 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. That’s 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." freēwēbηovel.c૦m
"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 lord’s 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. They’d escaped a village destroyed by an epidemic and come to Breisburg. The only difference was that the Flamm family weren’t serfs but non-free residents.
And now they had become close retainers of the finest knight family in Beren.
For the unfree, that’s the kind of luck that turns the world upside down.
Hans had a tendency to get cocky about it, but fortunately, thanks to Göring’s instruction, he had picked up some humility, and now he served as the family’s guard captain, armed with loyalty.
"Sir Knight, if it’s 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 wasn’t a particularly wealthy place, so their profits were relatively meager.
Fried had claimed Baron Boeven’s 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 couldn’t carry home. Most of it was food, and the circumstances made hauling it back impractical.
I’d 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. That’s my condition."
"The horses? But horses are goods the cantonal government treats as vital."
"Convince them that I’m 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 can’t 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 wasn’t my place to comment.
That night, as I was writing a letter to Hilda, Fried showed up unannounced with the finest Rosenheim wine, which he’d discovered in Baron Boeven’s 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 he’d been lately—always on edge and irritable. Because of that, I hadn’t been able to feel as at ease around him as before.
"Do I look like I’m 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 Fried’s 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.
