Occupation War

The key to territory war is seizing the people and provisions.

While each guild master was rushing about busily, Pernok also selected one of the most promising candidates.

The territory governed by Count Bolte, who supports the First Prince.

He was cultivating a fairly wealthy territory with a specialty product called cotton, but the problem was that all the territory’s wealth belonged personally to Count Bolte.

‘One of the First Prince’s financial sources.’

Count Bolte offered a certain amount of the specialty product sales to the First Prince.

With that, he was granted justification to rule that region.

‘As expected, if I strike first, it’ll be here.’

Pernok looked at the man before his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Hans.”

“It, it’s an honor, Your Highness.”

Territory resident Hans’s detailed circumstances tugged at Pernok’s interest.

“You run a small blanket shop?”

“Yes!”

“However, is there some problem? Why did you close the blanket shop?”

“The thing is…”

“It’s fine. If I can solve it, I’ll help you however much I can.”

“I… haven’t been properly receiving payment from Count Bolte’s household’s direct trading company.”

As if feeling wronged again just thinking about it, Hans raised his head with a choked expression.

“We receive commissions from the trading company to make blankets from cotton. We worked day and night to meet the quantity by the deadline! We handed over the completed blankets, but rather than the trading company paying proper value, they keep mentioning only the count’s name and postpone settlement!”

Hans’s family members were huddled inside the blanket shop.

“Is the situation bad enough that you need to sell this place?”

“Yes! At this rate, we’ll end up on the streets! If Your Highness hadn’t distributed provisions, we might have all starved to death!”

“How much is the payment you should receive?”

“About 500 gold.”

It’s an amount Hans’s family could live off idly for several years.

“It’s not just a coin or two—you were cheated out of that much money, so why have you stayed silent until now?”

“I reported it! I begged the marquis to please consider my circumstances! But…”

Count Bolte and Marquis Falkion were the First Prince’s faction.

Apparently the two had collaborated to exploit the territory residents’ labor.

‘There must be many more people swept up besides Hans.’

Pernok hid his smile and spoke.

“I’ll make sure you get it back tenfold.”

“What!?”

“In exchange, can you follow what I tell you to do?”

“If, if you give me money, is there anything I can’t do!”

Pernok handed over a single letter while whispering secretly.

“Then from now on, go to Count Bolte’s household’s trading company and do as I instruct.”

* * *

Count Bolte’s nerves were on edge.

‘Marquis Falkion died and an S-rank guild raising royal contempt appeared?’

The royal palace commanded them to keep defenses firm. But there weren’t many private soldiers here.

From the beginning, this place was a financial source supporting the First Prince by processing and selling specialty products.

Investing in commerce, they could only maintain troops at minimum levels.

‘When are those truth investigation team bastards coming?’

As the succession war echoed inside and outside the nation, each faction was being cautious in political strife.

In such circumstances, hearing unexpected bad news from a nearby territory, Count Bolte hadn’t even slept properly recently.

“His Highness the Prince needs to come quickly and sort something out.”

It was when Count Bolte, who was clinging to the First Prince’s faction with innate eloquence and flattery ability, was pacing by the window while biting only his nails.

Knock knock.

“What?”

At the sharp sound, the administrator entered carefully.

“Excuse me. There’s an urgent report to deliver.”

“What is it?”

“A guy named Hans from Marquis Falkion’s territory is requesting blanket payment.”

“Who?”

“Hans. Hans of the blanket shop.”

Count Bolte frowned and tried thinking, but nothing came to mind at all.

“Is he some trading company owner?”

“No. Just a territory resident.”

“Hey!”

Count Bolte shouted irritably.

“Do I need to know even guys like that? I told you to handle everything at your level!”

“But it’s a matter related to His Highness the Prince.”

“What?”

“Didn’t we make blankets to send to His Highness’s private soldiers last year? They’re all Hans’s work.”

“Ah, those blankets!”

Count Bolte hadn’t paid for the blankets.

At the time, Marquis Falkion also supported the First Prince, so when the two coordinated their story, only those who received the orders became fools.

Hans was one of them.

Having even gone into debt to produce a large quantity of blankets, he went bankrupt without receiving payment.

To Count Bolte, who had sent away numerous people this way, Hans was merely one of countless nameless laborers passing by.

“That guy who made them is some nobody named Hans?”

“Yes.”

“So, that bastard came looking here now?”

“He’s outside the castle gate. He says he’ll receive payment from a year ago.”

Suddenly, Count Bolte shook his head while recalling the royal contempt crime at Marquis Falkion’s territory.

‘I mustn’t get tangled with that place yet. Since they said to lie low, I should let even minor problems pass.’

Count Bolte clicked his tongue and spoke.

“Give him something appropriate and send him back.”

“The thing is… the amount is absurd.”

“How much?”

“2,000 gold.”

Count Bolte coughed while drinking water.

“Wh-what?”

“He precisely demanded 2,000 gold.”

“Did this bastard bang his head somewhere? What blanket costs 2,000 gold?”

Since it was blankets to send to the First Prince, he still remembered.

“We used only good quality with our cotton. He just mobilized labor!”

“Hans purchased the secondary materials needed for production.”

“Even including all that, it’s less than 100 gold! Even Marquis Falkion, who supplied leather, one of the main materials, ate his share appropriately—what’s he doing demanding 2,000 gold!”

“He’s shouting outside the castle now that he’ll receive payment plus interest.”

“This crazy bastard…!”

Count Bolte’s face flushed red as he barely swallowed his anger and spoke.

“Pay an appropriate price and send him back.”

“Must we really give it?”

“A truth investigation team is being dispatched to Marquis Falkion’s territory now. The marquis died! I don’t know what trouble those mercenary bastards with rolled-back eyes might cause. Right now, we must bolt shut the castle gate and firmly prepare defenses!”

“Mm… understood.”

The administrator bowed and left the office.

Count Bolte shook his head from side to side.

Had he gained confidence because the marquis died?

He couldn’t understand why that territory’s resident was suddenly acting up, and didn’t want to think about it.

“Ugh, bad luck sticking from morning.”

* * *

When the administrator came out, Hans gulped down dry saliva.

‘Whew, just do as instructed. Just as instructed.’

Thinking of the two people wearing robes pressed down behind him, courage naturally welled up.

“Um, Administrator. How did it go?”

“Your demand is too absurd.”

“What?”

“Truthfully speaking, didn’t we procure and bring both the cotton and leather?”

“The tools needed for production, thread, and items to attach joints were all things I bought even going into debt! I cried out that I could resolve it if I just received payment and procured them with footwork—how can you say it’s absurd!”

“Tsk, oh my. Lower your voice. Do you know where this is?”

“It’s where I should receive my money!”

When Hans glared, the administrator burst into a hollow laugh as if it was absurd.

“While I’m treating you nicely, take this and leave.”

And he dropped a single thin pouch on the ground.

Hans picked up the pouch with trembling hands and opened it to look.

30 gold was all there was.

“This doesn’t even match my payment!”

“What was the original payment?”

“It was 500 gold!”

“Right, correct! 500 gold! But why did you lie to me saying 2,000 gold?”

“That’s…”

“Damn it! How dare you try to swindle the count!”

The administrator stroked his beard while waving his hand.

“I’ll be merciful and pretend not to see, so leave.”

“…Please return at least the principal.”

“Ah, I’m telling you there isn’t any!”

“Administrator!”

“What do you want me to do, raising issues now about something from a whole year ago! I have nothing to say, so go back now!”

When the administrator shouted, surrounding soldiers gathered.

It was when Hans flinched at the gazes glaring while gripping spear shafts.

A man wearing a robe pressed down placed his hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

“I’m not done talking yet.”

“What are you saying…”

The administrator who was about to enter the castle turned his body.

When the man slowly removed his robe, his body froze.

The weather was clear, and the sunlight was warm.

He wasn’t even restrained with rope.

But the moment their eyes met, the administrator couldn’t move.

“I’m Hans’s proxy.”

The man had very clear eyes.

Though he gave a strange feeling as if you’d be sucked in, an inexplicable eeriness swept down the spine.

“The payment was certainly 500 gold, but at that time, many debts were charged for not receiving it, and interest accumulated too. Calculating in Marquis Falkion’s territory style, it came to 2,000 gold—why are you guys not even thinking about the overdue interest and…”

The man snatched the pouch from Hans and shook it onto the ground.

30 gold rolled around at the administrator’s feet.

“…Oppressing him to leave while giving this kind of snot-smeared money? Does this look like principal to your eyes? Or has the value of one gold been inflated?”

The man stuck close before the administrator.

“Where are you keeping your eyeballs? An administrator who can’t even calculate, has vulgar speech, and only diminishes the castle’s prestige.”

Then soldiers blocked between the man and the administrator with spears.

“What’s this?”

“Th-this thug bastard!”

The administrator came to his senses and stepped back.

And whether the insult was shameful, he flushed his face red and shouted.

“Expel him immediately!”

“Yes!”

The moment soldiers roughly grabbed the man’s shoulder with fierce faces, the remaining robed man jumped out and lightly knocked down the soldiers.

“Huh?”

When the administrator saw his face, he blinked.

He remembered appearances of him visiting the count’s household several times.

Whenever there were exchanges, administrators from each castle often had drinking parties.

“Knight Commander Joseph?”

Joseph glared and shouted.

“How dare you!”

At that moment, soldiers watching from above sent word inside, and as the inner castle gate opened, two knights and thirty soldiers burst out.

“How dare you without knowing who this person is!”

“Administrator! What’s going on!”

Both sides confronted each other while grasping the situation.

Hans looked at the man with fearful eyes.

He seemed sharply tense, thinking things had become too big because of him.

“Didn’t I say I’d extract ten times?”

“But…”

“Don’t worry. I quite like this scenery.”

Pernok moved Joseph back and stood in front.

“My introduction is late. I’m called Pernok.”

The administrator gaped.

Would there be anyone in this vicinity who didn’t know that name?

‘What? Something’s strange.’

By the time he noticed, the knights’ and soldiers’ turbulent momentum was already directed at Pernok.

“I was behind for a moment to help a wronged territory resident and watch your conscience, but you recklessly draw swords.”

Pernok grinned widely.

“This is a clear challenge to me.”

* * *

Count Bolte wanted to dispel the unsettled feeling from morning.

He tossed and turned in bed, but sleep didn’t come, and only his body with nerves fully wound became sensitive.

“Anyone there!”

“Yes!”

A maid hurriedly entered and bent at the waist.

Seeing her smooth figure, his lower region stood erect.

Count Bolte, who swallowed saliva, spoke in a deliberately stern voice.

“Prepare attendance.”

“Attendance… do you mean…?”

“Yes. Go get dressed up and come right now.”

It was the moment the maid turned with a hardened expression at the words to provide all service from morning.

Crash!

The ground shook as if an earthquake had occurred.

Before Count Bolte could catch his balance and staggered, the administrator flung open the door and entered.

“L-Lord!”

His clothes were torn like rags.

Unable to hide his fluster, he urgently shouted to Count Bolte.

“Me-mercenaries!”

“What?”

“A guild master from Falkion named Pernok is confronting the knight order right now!”

Count Bolte tilted his head.

It wasn’t like a bolt from the blue—what kind of absurd talk was this?