The Third Son of a Medieval Knight Family Chapter 29 - Knight of the Principality (15)

From an outside perspective, Permikoff appeared to be handling the sudden crisis admirably.

The unexpected devastating defeat in the east, the rapid advance of the barbarians, and the resulting sudden disruption to trade.

Most people would have fallen into chaos and struggled to recover, but the city’s leadership demonstrated their competence by responding calmly and swiftly.

They had handled the situation so well that even those who were initially anxious were gradually becoming calmer.

However, as the saying goes, no matter how much effort humans put in, success ultimately depends on heaven’s will—and the situation was once again developing in an unpredictable direction.

****

“If we send support through that mess, we’ll just lose innocent lives for nothing! The wiser course would be to lock the gates even tighter and prepare our defenses!”

“Are you suggesting we abandon everyone who came rushing to support our city? If we do something like that, none of us will be safe once the war ends! You thoughtless fool!”

“Watch your words! Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Chaos.

“The mercenaries are becoming anxious. Even if we deploy them, it won’t be easy to control them.”

“What’s their problem now? If they’ve taken the money, they should do as they’re told!”

“Fighting with walls at our backs versus going out to face them head-on is quite different… And rumors about the defeat in the east have spread considerably. That’s also had an impact…”

“Bah, I don’t want to hear it! Tell the captains that if they can’t control their own men, they can forget about their remaining pay!”

Chaos.

“Your Excellency… it seems there are several lords and nobles mixed among them out there. Our herald confirmed from a distance that some renowned houses are present.”

“Why on earth would they personally come here? What do they think they’ll gain from this mess?!”

“Y-Your Excellency… there are ears around us…”

“Let them hear! These incompetent, foolish bastards! Honestly, aren’t they all just trying to grab a big piece for themselves? They look down on us merchants all the time, and now look at them!”

“Your Excellency! Please…!”

Chaos.

The city, which had been on the verge of stabilizing, was once again beginning to burn fiercely.

If they continued to focus solely on defending their walls without sending aid, they could protect the city itself safely, but they feared the consequences.

These weren’t just any rabble out there—there were nobles from fairly prestigious houses among them, and ignoring them could result in other enraged nobles coming to hold the city accountable.

It would be difficult to pretend complete ignorance about their presence, especially since people had already seen numerous messengers arriving at the city requesting help.

Moreover, Permikoff was fundamentally a trading city.

Making enemies of the nobility could have devastating consequences for commerce.

Yet, if they were to ask whether they should open the gates and go to their rescue, this too was a decision that couldn’t be made lightly.

Fighting the barbarians head-on without the protection of walls was terrifying, given their fearsome reputation.

Every citizen of the principality, to varying degrees, harbored some fear of the barbarians.

What if they went out to help and were defeated?

The mere thought of barbarians charging toward an empty city with bloodshot eyes, intent on plunder, was horrifying to imagine.

Not only the mercenary captains but also the city guard captain firmly advocated keeping the gates locked and focusing on defense.

From a military perspective, this was far more reasonable, and deep down, they were all afraid of the barbarians.

They had no desire to fight those demon-like creatures in the open field without any advantage.

In response, some councilors with deep connections to the nobility insisted that they should go to the rescue immediately, while others who prioritized safety argued for continued defense. Meanwhile, messengers who had escaped with terrible wounds kept arriving at the city, making desperate pleas and threats…

‘What a mess.’

With significant risks in any path chosen and public opinion divided, even the Administrator couldn’t quell the flames.

When the atmosphere became this heated, not only were back-channel negotiations impossible, but even taking a public stand was difficult.

If he pushed too hard, he might be accused of being a dictator, which would end his political life as Administrator.

Even to Viktor, who was more or less a third party, it seemed impossible for the city to make a swift decision.

The more each argument had its own merit, the harder it became to choose.

While they dithered, the barbarians continued to gain momentum day after day, gleefully destroying the reinforcements.

As conflict persisted and an ominous atmosphere hung over the city, with the Administrator seriously considering seclusion, news finally arrived that would enable the city to make a decision.

****

“…We have no choice but to act now!”

The Administrator, who had become utterly haggard from the daily heated debates, declared with a grim face.

Even the councilors who had opposed deployment reluctantly cast votes in favor, though they gritted their teeth.

The catalyst that led them to abandon the advantage of the city walls and go out to support the reinforcements was simple.

The envoy who arrived from the Grand Prince delivered a brief message:

-Please help the reinforcements. Do not turn your back on the noble hearts who have gathered to protect your city.

‘By tradition, city matters should be decided by the city… even if it’s the Grand Prince, he shouldn’t interfere like this.’

The Administrator muttered with displeasure while listening to the Grand Prince’s message, which asked them to take action without offering any real assistance. However, he had no choice but to nod quietly at the next part.

-I hear my nephew is among those surrounded in the camp. I will greatly reward you if you help.

The Grand Prince’s nephew.

A highly renowned noble in the principality and the recipient of the Grand Prince’s deep affection.

Count Yakobski was dying under the encirclement of the barbarians.

****

Viktor observed the people standing around him with no particular change in his expression.

Every face looked solemn.

‘And for good reason.’

In the end, the Administrator and the council had decided to open the gates and send aid.

Count Yakobski was a figure who simply could not be ignored.

Though Viktor didn’t know why someone who should have been in the western part of the principality was suffering here, one thing was clear—no one wanted to face the Grand Prince’s wrath if they left him to die.

The rumor that the childless Grand Prince was considering Count Yakobski as his potential successor was well-known to anyone with a modicum of culture.

The man most likely to become the next Grand Prince!

With his outgoing and straightforward personality, and famous for valuing martial prowess, he admittedly didn’t quite fit in with the city folk, but that was now completely irrelevant.

The Administrator spoke while sweating profusely.

“Everyone, we can no longer stand by and watch as our damned gracious reinforcements are violated by the barbarians. Especially Count Yakobski—he must be brought back alive at all costs. I trust you understand what I mean.”

Everyone’s face darkened.

It was worrying enough that they would have to fight the barbarians, but if they failed to rescue Count Yakobski, the city’s future would clearly be bleak.

Some of the freedom-loving city nobles had gone into seclusion after raging against the Grand Prince’s message, even shouting that they should disembowel themselves in protest. But most were people who understood reality.

It was madness to make an enemy of the Grand Prince when even dealing with a great noble required caution.

Of course, the Grand Prince wouldn’t burn Permikoff, one of the principality’s finest cities, but it wouldn’t be surprising if the city’s leadership was completely replaced.

When the councilors and even the city guard captain who would have to go to the battlefield couldn’t brighten their expressions, Administrator Fedor opened his mouth with a deliberately cheerful voice:

“Respected colleagues, don’t look so gloomy. This could actually be an opportunity. If we can safely escort back the nobles suffering out there, especially Count Yakobski, we’ll have earned their tremendous gratitude.”

“But… um, Your Excellency is right!”

“Indeed. What’s done is done—it makes sense to maximize our benefits.”

Inwardly, everyone was thinking the same thing.

‘Can we really defeat the barbarians and rescue the reinforcements?’

But now that deployment had been decided, making further despondent remarks would be foolish.

Even if they didn’t truly believe it, they all talked about praying for victory and the sweet rewards that would follow.

While the councilors stamped their feet with feigned enthusiasm and the guard captain forced a hearty laugh as he raised his cup, the Administrator quietly approached Viktor, who had been silently observing.

“Sir Knight, about this deployment… what do you think?”

Viktor looked at Fedor with calm eyes.

“Well, objectively speaking, there’s no real reason to go out. There’s an enormous difference between fighting with city walls at our backs versus without them.”

“…That’s certainly true, but…”

“Still, if the situation leaves no choice, then we must go.”

Viktor showed neither tension nor fear.

He neither smiled nor grew angry, maintaining only a face as hard as steel.

His calm yet unwavering attitude somehow gave Fedor a sense of reassurance.

‘Well, no matter how much a single knight might accomplish, there are limits…’

Nevertheless, fighting alongside such a reliable knight would at least prevent the mercenaries under him from immediately fleeing.

The Administrator whispered with barely moving lips.

“If things look dangerous, withdraw immediately and return.”

“…”

“We should try to bring back Count Yakobski if possible, but the others can be abandoned. Don’t push yourself too hard—just manage the mercenaries and come back.”

“Your Excellency, are you serious?”

When Viktor couldn’t help but ask, Fedor quietly nodded.

“For me, the city comes first. And losing a knight like you to something like this would be the greatest loss. I’ve hinted as much to the guard captain, so don’t feel burdened—just go and return.”

“…Thank you.”

Viktor looked at the Administrator, who was quietly nodding.

Indeed, the people skills of someone who governed a major city were at a considerable level.

‘But…’

Viktor deliberately showed a slight smile.

It was a confident, somewhat fierce smile.

“There’s no need to worry.”

His instinct was whispering to him.

Strangely, it didn’t feel like they would lose!

And so, the city’s day of destiny approached.

****

Guard Captain Georgi had once been a renowned mercenary.

In the harsh mercenary world, where simply retiring with an intact body was considered a successful life, Georgi had risen to become the guard captain of a major city—an almost unbelievable achievement.

With a deep scar twitching across his left cheek, he awkwardly raised the corner of his mouth.

“Sir Knight, I’ll be counting on you.”

“Likewise.”

Viktor slowly looked around.

There weren’t many mounted individuals, but making up for that was an enormous number of gathered mercenaries.

Three large mercenary companies renowned as elites in the principality.

Six more mid-sized companies known for their reliability and dependability.

Thirteen small mercenary companies that had unfortunately been caught in the city and forced to participate.

As a result of the massive trading city deliberately throwing money around, they had gathered more mercenaries than even a great noble could easily hire.

Add to this the city guard and its captain, a once-famous mercenary.

And finally, Viktor—a newly-adult young knight, but so massive in build that such words seemed to disappear when looking at him.

Perhaps due to their considerable numbers, the group, which had seemed demoralized with noticeably gloomy expressions when they first set out, now appeared to have regained some composure.

Viktor and the overall commander, Georgi, were riding at the very rear with an escort from the city guard.

The mercenary captains were scattered about, directing their subordinates.

‘But why are they moving separately?’

Viktor wondered doubtfully.

They had certainly departed together and left through the city gate together, but somehow the group had formed into loose formations, each clustered separately.

Regardless of size, the mercenary companies absolutely refused to merge, maintaining considerable distances between them—so loose that another army could pass through the gaps between them.

Viktor looked at the guard captain.

He had heard that Georgi was an experienced, veteran former mercenary, but he didn’t seem bothered by this sloppy formation, showing no particular concern.

“Guard Captain, wouldn’t it be better to tighten the formation?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Viktor broached the subject, and the guard captain tilted his head with a puzzled expression.

“What? Why would we need to do that?”

Faced with Georgi’s attitude as if he’d received a completely unexpected question, Viktor hesitated slightly.

‘Is this actually normal?’

Viktor had never formally studied military science, systematic tactics, or strategy.

Having never been properly trained as a knight in the first place, he was vaguely thinking about armies in this era based on what he’d seen in his previous life.

Armies marching in neat rows and columns, with leadership gathered together issuing orders that were swiftly communicated—a tight and organic system.

To state the conclusion first, Viktor’s expectations were a complete misconception.

“Haha, Sir Knight. That was quite a funny joke. It’s helped ease my tension a bit.”

“…Hmm.”

“Look. There’s certainly value in hiring mercenary companies renowned throughout the principality. With this much force, even those barbarians won’t take us lightly.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Hey, stop there! Where are you from? Yaroblak Mercenary Company? What’s your business? Ah, why are you asking me about that! Ask those camp merchants over there about the prostitutes. Get lost!”

“Hmmmmmm…!”

Loose and chaotic formations. Undependable discipline.

Messengers crossing freely between different positions. Irrational communication.

And camp merchants who created even more chaos by moving between positions at will.

These were not, strictly speaking, “soldiers.”

The military discipline Viktor had expected was only found in a very small number of mercenary companies or the small standing armies that kings maintained.

The typical army of this era consisted of mercenary companies hired with money, wandering as they pleased to their destination, holding only the most basic leadership meetings, and then fighting and plundering as they saw fit.

While knights were known for ignoring orders and doing as they pleased, mercenaries were only slightly better, with strong tendencies to operate independently.

A mercenary company was, strictly speaking, an independent unit, and they could fight autonomously within a loose command structure.

This was a natural right and custom, and for the overall commander to interfere with this was clear meddling.

Viktor realized.

‘I just need to focus on my own fighting and not worry about the rest!’

Trying to execute meticulously planned tactics with such people was itself a joke.

Georgi’s reaction had actually been the sensible one.

The fact that Georgi had divided the mercenary companies into center, left, and right wings was already enough to earn praise for his experienced command, and seeing this, Viktor simply decided to stop thinking about it.