Chapter 272

Chapter 272 - How Eugene Makes Money (1)

The noble faction army that entered the Moving Castle took a comfortable rest.

Roll, roll, roll.

"You're making me dizzy."

"What are you doing at your age?"

When a mercenary rolled around on the flat floor of the quarters, his colleagues rebuked him.

"It's fascinating. There's warmth in the floor and walls?"

"They said it's a living castle. What's the problem?"

"Is blood really flowing inside the stones?"

The rolling mercenary tapped the floor. Having already seen the tentacles opening and closing the massive castle gates, it felt very plausible to them.

"Hey! Take your shoes off. The captain said he won't let it slide if we leave footprints."

A mercenary who came back from soaking in the spa inside the castle was kicked by his colleagues as he tried to enter the room wearing shoes.

At first, it was unfamiliar to step over the threshold barefoot, but everyone quickly adapted. Rather, rolling on the floor barefoot now felt like a true rest.

"I slept soundly for the first time in a while. Sleeping out in the winter is truly a load of bullshit."

"What kind of castle doesn't have a single bedbug?"

When staying in cities or villages, they used to stay in accommodations crawling with bugs and smelling of all sorts of things. There was no need to mention camping where they had to shiver in the cold wind.

"I saw rats at the butcher shop earlier, though?"

"Those aren't sewer rats, they're raised for food, apparently."

"If they sell jerky, should I buy some?"

"Get some for me too if you're buying. I'll give you the money later."

To poor mercenaries, rat meat isn't a particularly disgusting ingredient. When they stop by slums and want to eat meat, there are no alternatives. It is also prey frequently caught along with snakes in traps set while camping.

Who would refuse the opportunity to add animal protein and fat to a stew just because it's a rat? One cannot endure the arduous life of a mercenary with such a noble mindset.

"It's dizzying."

The mercenaries who came out to the balcony for some fresh air clicked their tongues at the scenery looking tiny below. The land they had fought so desperately for felt truly insignificant when seen like this.

Just then, a mercenary enjoying the view widened his eyes. He saw a scouting party observing this place from quite a distance away.

"Enemy soldiers!"

"So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'? Enemies have been spotted."

"The captain told us to ignore it. They've already been spotted about four times."

The fussing mercenary felt like he had become a fool all by himself.

"I know we're inside the castle, but isn't this too relaxed?"

It's not strange to be insensitive to enemy soldiers seen during a siege. However, the peculiarity now was that they were in the middle of enemy territory.

"What are we going to do if enemies attack? Is it even possible to lay siege here? WhAAether it's ladders or siege towers, nothing you bring will reach."

"They're keeping watch from the roof and other balconies too. We'd be thankful if they rammed into us here. We can just salvage loot from the corpses mashed by arrows and catapults."

"We wouldn't even need bows. It looks like just throwing arrows by hand would be enough."

The mercenaries giggled. Looking down at the world from this sturdy and high balcony gave them a sense of omnipotence. Even though they were only staying briefly as guests, they couldn't help but shrug their shoulders proudly. They felt like they had become the royal guards of the Roman capital.

Since then, several groups made their appearance. Besides the Imperial faction scouting parties, there were transport units operated by nobles and caravans led by sutlers.

More than half of them clutched their heads upon seeing the Moving Castle and turned back, but there were those who fOrced their way through.

-Wouldn't it be too dangerous? They say Count Mayer and the Western noble army are stationed there. It's different from before when they kept their doors closed and remained silent. If we're unlucky, an interception unit might come out.

-Then what do we do? If we miss the delivery date, we have to pay a penalty. On top of that, all the fruit will rot, so how do we handle that loss...

Because returning like this would mean facing a nearly bankrupting deficit anyway. So they attempted a gamble.

-Oh God. Please embrace us.

They lowered their banners and passed by the outskirts as much as possible, praying that an interception fOrce wouldn't be deployed. However, the god they believed in wasn't Banas.

"The knights are going out."

The Moving Castle mercenaries cheered, anticipating the spectacle of the impending battle.

"Let's go! Warriors of the Western Army!"

"Let's bring down the iron mace on the collaborator pigs cooperating with the tyrant!"

Western knights in high-quality armor rode out, accompanied by squires and servants. Several mercenary cavalrymen also joined with the thought of getting a piece of the pie.

"Damn it. If only I had a horse..."

"A guy who hand-washed his clothes diligently because he didn't even have money to buy clothes shouldn't hope for such things."

"Shut up."

The knights who had entered the Moving Castle looking grimy were all tidy now.

The weapons and armor that were a mess from camping and battling had been cleanly repaired in the large-scale workshops operated by the Dwarves. They also changed into new clothes, replacing the ones that reeked of sweat, dirt, blood, and excrement.

Wealthy nobles and knights bought riding clothes tailored by Dark Elf women. Mercenaries purchased mass-produced clothing stocked up in large quantities from Britannia.

"Those guys are running away."

The mercenaries laughed as they watched the sutlers scrambling in panic. With the balcony being so high and the surrounding area being a wasteland without mountains, they could view the chasers and the chased at a glance.

"Looks like they won't abandon the carts until the end."

"How much speed can they pick up running with all that cargo? If they don't have the courage to become penniless, they have to get caught along with their goods."

After a commotion and a cloud of dust, the interception fOrce returned a short while later. They brought back a cartload of loot, carriages, and prisoners.

"Huh? Another one is passing by over there."

"This place is truly a prime spot. They just keep taking the bait, don't they?"

Not long after, another caravan procession appeared in the distance.

"Follow me!"

"We will cut off the enemies' supply lines and support our comrades in the south!"

Immediately, different knights from before led their subordinates and sortied. While they spoke of a grand cause, their faces were dyed with deep greed.

Sutlers might have their own escorts, but they were nothing more than mercenaries without a single knight. Compared to an army led by lords, it was child's play.

With weak military power and abundant supplies, there was no prey more nutritious than this. Robbing such merchants once was far better than pillaging several villages.

"Wait! Wait!"

At that moment, a few knights hastily stopped the interception fOrce just as they were about to leave.

"What is it? Did His Excellency the Count forbid the sortie? Or is there an enemy ambush from another direction?"

"Let's go togAAether!"

"...Are you kidding me?!"

The cavalry that had sortied en masse returned again, packed with loot.

"Let's hurry to the logistics center."

Victory and looting are joyful, but the best part was not having to carry the heavy loot around. A large haul of loot is usually obtained far from friendly bases.

These become burdens until they are converted into cash. But now, they could dispose of them immediately inside the Moving Castle.

"You're going to buy it at this price? Just how much profit are you trying to make!"

"If you do not wish to, you may take it back."

The beastman merchant spoke confidently in front of the knight exuding a thick smell of enemy blood. As a servant of House Mayer, Eugene's authority accompanied him.

"Who said I'm going back! It's because you seem to be treating a comrade-in-arms standing against the tyrant too much like a merchant!"

Coercive trading backed by status was a skill equipped by any noble of this era.

-Are you haggling the price now?

-Oh my, my Lord! How could a lowly merchant belittle the results of an honorable battle?

-Of course you shouldn't. Then let's go with 10 silver coins. With this, the debt I owed you last time is cleared.

-Please spare me. Even if I get 8 coins, I barely make a profit. And I have to leg it around quite a bit for that.

There was even a saying that someone who hadn't experienced this wasn't a merchant. However, when the argument seemed to get heated, other mercenaries and knights stepped in to stop it.

"Sir Knight. It's natural for field specification fees to be attached."

"Calm down. Considering the burden of carrying it to another village or city, it's a cheap price."

Stories of warriors who got exhausted because of heavy loot, couldn't fight properly, and were taken prisoner were common.

"Hey! Are you the only one using this place? Hurry it up!"

"A-Alright."

With knights waiting in the rear lines joining in, the trouble was immediately suppressed.

There were knights whose knighting dates differed by more than 10 years, and even nobles with territories were scattered everywhere. There were too many prominent figures to make threats like at other trading companies.

The beastman merchant swallowed a smile as he watched the knight turn away, suppressing his anger. As expected, there were few places as enjoyable for a merchant to do business as the Moving Castle.

* * *

Meanwhile, Eugene was briefing the Western Army nobles, knights, and mercenary captains in the strategy room.

A large map, 2m tall and 4m wide, depicted the terrain in detail. Since there were many people, it was set up upright so everyone could see it easily.

"The center here is our current location. If the enemy supply unit wants to avoid this castle, they have to detour south and cross the river. But across the river, southern noble faction fortresses are lurking everywhere."

Eugene attached a yellow magnet representing the southern noble faction across the river.

Clack!

A cheerful sound echoed as the iron plate and the magnet collided.

"Fascinating. To use magnetite in this way."

"Then is there an iron plate behind the map?"

The nobles murmured at the briefing method they were seeing for the first time in their lives.

"Your Excellency. The fortresses across the river have deep moats, and the soldiers are unharmed, so they are in good shape."

"That is correct. If they want to move by water, they have to go upstream, which wouldn't be cost-effective at all. Supplying through there will be difficult."

The knights nodded with triumphant faces.

"As you sirs say. Then the only remaining path is detouring north, but that's not easy either. Mount Banok is standing right there blocking the way."

On the map, rugged mountains blocked the north and northwest of the wasteland where the Moving Castle was located.

"To cross that mountain, they need to double the usual escorts. It's a place swarming with monsters."

"And if they detour around the mountain? By the time they arrive, the supply unit will have eaten all the food they were transporting."

Everyone in the strategy room laughed and toasted with the cold beer set before each of them. It was because they could clearly picture how much the Imperial faction, their supply route blocked, must be stressing over this.

"This place has severe winds, and there's no grass or water source for warhorses to graze on. With Your Excellency settling in this abandoned land, it becomes a natural stronghold."

"Even if we just stay put here, the enemies will feel like they have a thorn caught in both their esophagus and windpipe."

The ones intoxicated with a sense of omnipotence weren't just the mercenaries but the nobles as well. Realizing that the castle, which seemed so threatening from the outside, was a definite ally, they couldn't be happier.

Just then, a witch belonging to the intelligence department entered.

Perhaps due to working out diligently, true to the Blackhand Tribe, a goshawk was proudly perched on her broad shoulders. It was her familiar.

"Castellan. We have confirmed merchants trying to break through a side path in the northeast pass. The scale is about 200. Among them, the escorts are about 40, mostly infantry."

"...!"

Listening attentively to the clear voice of the report, the knights in the room had their eyes sparkling. It was truly perfect prey.

There were a few side paths in this region, which allowed bypassing the Moving Castle, but the processions had to be stretched out, making them more vulnerable to ambushes.

"Your Excellency! Please give me a chance! They won't even imagine that we would come!"

"I will go and show those wicked collaborators what for!"

"I am not your liege, so you don't need to ask for my permission. Step forward freely."

Bowing politely, the knights dashed out. An old baron stroked his gray beard and laughed at their blood-pumping vigor.

"The Count has placed many talented individuals under his command. To scout using familiars conTrolled by witches."

The intelligence department, composed of many tribal witches, constantly monitored the area tens of kilometers around the Moving Castle by flying their familiars.

Originally, the side paths couldn't be monitored from the roof of the Moving Castle, but one cannot escape the eyes of a hawk flying in the sky. Thanks to this, they could wickedly block the supply route.

"Is the Baron not going out?"

"Hohoho. I'm not at an age to step forward with such vigor. I feel my energy draining just from the last battle. I'd rather enjoy looking at the birds."

The Baron, who enjoys falconry, had a lot of interest in birds.

An eagle owl dozing off with a face that said, 'Don't talk to me. Call me when it's night.'

A golden eagle with its eyes closed gently, perhaps feeling good from the witch scratching it with a dedicated comb.

A crow glaring at the unfamiliar noble while hugging sparkling pebbles with a face that said, 'It's all mine!'

And the cradles empty because they were on missions.

It was a scenery Eugene had seen in the past at Valda's mansion in the forest. The scale had grown incomparably larger than back then, though.

* * *

"This isn't the time to be doing this!"

Perhaps stimulated by the cavalry returning packed with loot, mercenaries who owned horses ran to the stables.

"I'm Mikel of the Gonork Mercenary Group! I want to retrieve my horse."

Mikel handed over the name tag he received when entrusting his horse. It read D-14-25.

"That way is Sector 14, Building D."

"Thanks!"

Mikel ran toward where the stable hand pointed. Along the way, people discussing various livestock caught his eye.

"Barcia warhorses and Desert warhorses are not for sale. Sales permission has only been granted for Fairy race racehorses."

"Can't you do something about that!"

Nobles whose eyes had turned at the sight of excellent warhorses were clamoring everywhere.

"Here, please take thi..."

"Put that coin pouch away. In my 80 years as a horse merchant, I have never once accepted a bribe. Are you trying to insult that honor?"

"Ehey! It's not right to reject someone's sincerity so sharply. It's not a bribe, I'm just saying let's talk comfortably."

The knights were offended that a mere stable hand dared to speak of honor, but they had to endure it. This was the middle of the Imperial faction's territory, and inside the castle, Eugene's authority reached every corner. Even if they were angry, they had to bow their heads.

Some nobles attempted more promising transactions.

"This guy looks very majestic. Befitting a Desert warhorse, its joints are sturdy."

"You have a good eye. It's a stallion the Castellan went through much trouble to obtain in Tripol. The children this guy has seen already number 130."

The stable hand pointed to the golden necklace hanging around the stallion's neck. It was a certificate engraved with Eugene's signature.

"It's the guy the Castellan personally recognized as the best stallion in the Moving Castle."

"My mare happens to be in heat, could I get some of his seed?"

"One mating session is 5 Imperial gold coins. If you pay 18 coins, you can periodically receive seed until she gets pregnant."

"Ugh... That's too expensive."

WhAAether to aim for a one-shot or go for a flat rate was the eternal dilemma of stallion trading in this era.

"What is this guy's track record?"

"A master marksman who never misses. Those who paid 18 coins usually ended up regretting it later."

The stable hand smiled and gave a thumbs up.

Neigh!

Did the smart stallion understand what was being said? It snorted and raised its head high.

"The price is just too high."

"There are already 13 reservations lined up. Yesterday it was 9. If it's too burdensome, I can recommend a cheaper one. Please go that way."

Seed trading and foal trading took place everywhere.

-You don't necessarily have to bet your life on battles. With this castle, there are many ways to make money.

Stallions were one of the products that raked in gold coins for Eugene, along with the distribution business.

"So this is what a Wargot looks like."

"It would easily pierce through something like a Goblin or an Orc."

Some knights were completely mesmerized by the majestic figure of the mountain monster. It is common for knights to harbor a romanticized view of monster mounts.

A wild nature that doesn't cower even in front of threatening enemies like Bugbears and Trolls. The combat power to check and fight against monsters below the level of Wargs with its powerful horns.

For knights, whose career advancement relies heavily on building a reputation through monster hunting, they were far better partners than timid warhorses.

Livestock packed in tens per pen attracted the mercenaries' attention. It reminded those who had kicked away their boring rural lives of their hometowns. However, there were many differences from the livestock they had seen.

"A pig that doesn't smell is a first for me."

Clean pink skin without a speck of mud or excrement. Not a single blood-sucking mosquito or skin disease could be found.

"That's because the only water in the village you were in was the well. You don't know how much these guys love taking baths."

"Oh! Water is coming out! Fascinating."

When a pig stepped on a corner of the pen's floor, water poured down from above like a rain shower. The guy happily enjoyed the water splash, rolled his body around on the stone floor, and then hopped up.

Mercenaries who used to farm while leading cows flocked to the cow pens.

"Look at the size. This guy would be very popular with the cows if he went to our village."

"His eyes are lively. Is it because he doesn't bear a yoke?"

The cows of the Moving Castle ate plenty of highly nutritious feed from magic feed troughs. They always lived in comfortable temperatures and weren't mobilized for hard farming work.

Raised prosperously without stress, their complexion was different. If there were nobles among cows, would it feel like this? And there was an element that perfected this happy life.

"What's this? Why are the cows all gathered in one place here?"

In the center of the cow pen, a thick pillar was installed. Wrapped around the pillar up to a height of 2m was a brush made of very stiff material, about 70cm in diameter.

Scratch scratch.

Buzzz.

Whenever they were bored, the cows flocked over and diligently rubbed their necks and backs against the brush.

"Is it really that good?"

"Look at that guy's eyes wide open."

Moo!

A vigorous yet pleasant cry. That was a resonance the mercenaries, who had tended to cows every day until they ran away from home, had never heard before. The cows they saw had their skeletons twisted from ill-fitting yokes and always walked with their heads down, their eyes dull.

Moooooo!

"Hahaha!"

"What kind of cow cries like that?"

"Its face! Just look at its face!"

Some cows, while scratching their backs, lifted their heads as if intoxicated and then collapsed just like that. The mercenaries burst into laughter at the sight of them lying with their four legs stretched towards the sky and their tongues sticking out.

"Excuse me. Passing through."

"Oh! Perfect timing."

A mercenary asked a cat beastman maid who had come to milk the cows.

"I've traveled a lot, but I've never seen something like that. Where did you buy it?"

"It wasn't bought, it was made. The Castellan ordered the workshop technicians to manufacture it."

"C-Castellan? Then Count Mayer did?"

"Yes."

The mercenaries couldn't believe it. They couldn't imagine a knight who rampaged like a god of war on the battlefield, crushing enemies, contemplating ways to make cows happy.

"With that, the cows' stress is greatly reduced, so they don't fight each other. Injuries from trying to scratch their bodies in weird places also disappear. Plus, milk production increases noticeably."

"Oho. Oho."

The mercenaries stroked their chins and nodded.

"Should I try making one when I go back to the countryside later?"

"It looks simple, but it doesn't seem like an easy thing to make."

The cat beastman milking the cows laughed inwardly. This brush is a product manufactured by witches using alchemy to combine various crops. It was a type of technology inaccessible even to lords with manors.

* * *

"You intend to pay your ransom by taking up spears?"

Eugene poured Dwarf-made beer for the two Lantzheim decurions who requested an interview. They received it politely, feeling deeply honored.

"We believe we kept our loyalty by blocking the retreat route until the end. If you accept us, we will serve you with loyalty."

"We will substitute our ransom by fighting at the risk of our lives."

It is a common occurrence for a captured knight to sell his martial prowess to pay off his ransom. However, this is possible because it is guaranteed by the honor of his family.

Equipping hundreds of mercenaries who were enemies and placing them on the front lines was rare. The decurions were also cautious because they knew this. If they made a wrong move, they might be scolded for daring to act like knights as lowly mercenaries.

"The knights' mouths haven't dried up cursing and praising you guys. They say they missed both the Viscount and the Count because of you."

"W-We were just faithful to our mission."

"Yeah. Since you were faithful to your mission, while everyone else ran away, you guys were the only ones blocking the path in the rear. Eat this too. It's delicious."

Fortunately, no hostility was visible in Eugene's demeanor as he offered French fries with plenty of cheese.

Unlike the Western nobles who vented their anger over missing the big catches, Eugene had plenty of ways to make money anyway. He didn't care about missing the Viscount or Count.

"What about the other decurions?"

"We are currently persuading them. We just wanted to let you know that half of us wish to repay Your Excellency's grace..."

"We are confident we can persuade them. Please trust us."

As time passes, Eugene's rare goodwill might cool down. Right now, having made a strong impression, was the best timing for negotiation.

"I like it even more because you're stubborn even in this situation. Take your time. If needed, I can prepare a separate meal for them."

Eugene was someone who carefully and strictly chose the regular employees to be stationed in the castle.

-Who are those guys holding out even in this situation?

-That's just how the Lantzheim guys are.

And these upright warriors had already passed Eugene's test in the last battle.