Episode 141: The Deacon's Cooperation, Part 2 - The Saga of Lioncourt

A Few Days Later Negotiations failed, and we positioned ourselves outside Barka Castle. Perhaps there was never any room for negotiation from the start. We didn’t have any reason to stop our siege on the castle. Likewise, for them, handing over hostages meant losing their ability to resist even after escaping, so they were unlikely to agree. I took another look at Barka Castle—a large fortress city. Although I didn't know the exact details, it felt comparable in scale to the capital of Lioncourt’s domain. There were many guard towers, similar to turrets, that we couldn't afford to underestimate, but the walls were low and didn’t seem to have many troops. ...I see why they would be hesitant about a siege war... Seeing Barka Castle firsthand, I understood several things. This castle was designed for trade and didn’t prioritize defense. "Alright, let's attack swiftly and plunder! Use the carts as platforms!" I moved through the camp with a few escorts, rallying the soldiers with encouraging words. Using carts as platforms against not-so-high walls had become the norm since the previous battle (see Chapter 130). The soldiers were fixing shields and wooden boxes onto the carts. While all Lioncourt’s army carts were handcarts, there were plenty of regular ones in other armies. "Ah, here you are, my liege. A messenger from Barka Castle." As I continued to boost morale with lively claims, Poncello unusually informed me of a messenger’s arrival. Maurice, who got along well with him, likely requested this. Despite his stern appearance, this knight often took on such tasks. Being responsible for overseeing Bachelard’s entire army didn’t stop him from being attentive. This approachable demeanor earned him high regard among the troops, making him quite popular within the army. "Hm? A messenger monk?" "Yes, apparently a deacon from within Barka Castle." I responded with a casual "Hmm" to Poncello’s words. Perhaps Count Barkasisik had heard somewhere that I was considered devout and pious. "Understood, I’ll meet them. It’s just before battle, so let’s keep it informal." "Understood. I will inform the steward." Poncello quickly turned on his heel and returned. After a short pause, I headed over there too. "A monk, huh... It’ll be bothersome if they talk about peace with idealistic notions." "Well, they’re not the Patriarch, so you can just say no." Rolo and I, engaged in idle chat, made our way toward Maurice. I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, but ignoring them wasn't an option. After all, treating monks poorly could lead to bad karma and damage our image. When I dismounted and lazily walked over, there were four monks. They were all reasonably young. After exchanging brief greetings, we got to the point. The representative deacon was particularly young, likely in his twenties. He was entrusted with this crucial negotiation and happened to be Count Barkasisik’s own younger brother. "We have a request, King Lioncourt. We wish for you to allow those desiring to leave the castle to escape." As expected, the monks wanted us to spare those who wanted to abandon the castle. Their stance hadn’t changed since the previous military envoy. "Apologies... There’s no benefit to us even if we let them go. Our negotiations with them have already broken down." When I bluntly rejected their request, the monks started spouting arbitrary reasoning like "for the sake of mercy" and "it’s not God’s will." ...To invoke God’s will, of all things... I imagine even God is bothered by being manipulated by such young monks. Their cavalier arguments began to irritate me. The more foolish the monk, the quicker they were to drag God into their arguments. From the start, they showed no inclination to negotiate logically. ...Wait... I can use this... To avoid giving away my intentions, I hid my mouth with my hand and grinned fiendishly. "...Mmm, if it's said to be God's will... However..." Feigning deep contemplation, I muttered to myself. Seeing an opportunity, the deacon pressed on with "Tolerance is a vital virtue" and "Show us the breadth of your regal spirit." If they thought they could sway me with morality instead of practicality, they were fools. "I desire to save the people! Aren’t they the ones suffering every time there’s a battle? If you truly pity them..." For the coup de grâce, the deacon raised his voice, relying solely on emotional arguments. What exactly did he aim to achieve? With a sigh, I nodded as if resigning to "God’s will." "Oh, then!?" "Yes, I’m moved by your concern for the people. 'Those within the castle are free to depart.'" Right there, I formally decreed, "Those inside the castle who wish to leave may do so. Depart within two days," and pledged it to God by signing the document. It was something to hand to Count Barkasisik and keep a copy for myself. "However, I must ask you to remain with us until everything is settled. Is that agreeable?" The deacon nodded with an enthusiastic "Of course," and smiled warmly—like a man proud of completing a significant task. The accompanying monks headed back to report, while I took charge of the deacon in the meantime. "I’m sorry, but let’s move to where you can see the castle. Your presence should be visible to those within." I had seats prepared and sat with the deacon where the castle gate was in full view. From here, we should be perfectly visible to Barka Castle. After that, we filled the time with casual conversation... the topic was theology, which happened to be one of my strong suits. Our seated discussion grew animated, and the deacon eagerly shared his viewpoints, seemingly enjoying our exchange. This young deacon appeared to be a scholarly monk and seemed pleasantly surprised by my unexpected erudition. Amidst our theological dialogue, I discreetly instructed Rolo, "Make sure preparations are in place; be ready for any sudden changes." That was all Rolo needed to understand. "My Lord, what was that about?" "It's a precaution to keep our troops ready for unexpected situations. We can’t rule out the possibility of Barkasisik’s forces launching a surprise attack. It’s a necessary measure." While the deacon appeared slightly puzzled, I explained that battlefield nuances are hard to predict, and he nodded in understanding when I mentioned our necessary vigilance against potential surprise attacks from Barkasisik’s forces. Soon, we returned to our debate over interpretations of the solar eclipse. The deacon flattered me with comments like, "Your insight is remarkable." However, my theological foundations were solidly laid by Master Lignel, and I wouldn’t be outdone by any country monk. Our visibly lively conversation was undoubtedly perceptible to those within the castle as we talked from our conspicuous position. Eventually, the gates of Barka Castle opened, and their forces began to withdraw. I watched in my peripheral vision, waiting for the right moment. ...Their forces inside probably number around 1,000, perhaps a bit more... It’s still too early... The enemy's pace was slow. Without the constraint of my condition, "only items worn can be taken," they were sluggishly moving while dragging their carts. It was as if a young lady was lifting her hem to wade through water—merely an invitation for us to act. "Alright, it’s time." I stood abruptly and commanded, "Attack! Seize the gate!" Already on standby through Rolo’s coordination, Lioncourt’s forces erupted with battle cries and charged at Barkasisik’s retreating troops. Since the retreating forces were bringing carts and other things with them, the gates remained open, unable to be closed. There was no escape, nor did they have a proper formation—there was no way we would lose to such a disorganized group. I could see Robert, on his first campaign, charging on horseback with his schoolmates. He cut a rather gallant figure as a warrior... Is this what they call a proud parent? Without much resistance, Barkasisik’s forces scattered in panic, being cut down one by one. Those defeated, burdened with their valuables, looked like ducks carrying onions, practically advertising themselves as a feast waiting to be devoured. Our soldiers were delighted at the feast spread before them and charged in. Thus the plundering began. "Fools! Have you forgotten your vow to God!?" The deacon's face cycled from pale to flushed as he reproached me. He was struggling to keep up with the rapidly changing situation. Waving the oath paper, I pressed it into the deacon's hands, saying, "Please read carefully." "It doesn’t say anywhere that we wouldn't attack. It seems that you're the one who hasn’t taken your vow to God seriously. Look closely; it is your naivety that leads to the deaths of citizens and the burning of the city." Mumbling "This is absurd" and "Impossible," the deacon curled up and began to weep. His mental fortitude was astoundingly weak. "Look, our forces have already seized the gates. Thanks to you, this success is ours. In recognition of your cooperation, I’ll ensure you reach a respectable position within the Eastern Sacred Church." Looking over, some of Lioncourt's troops were already pouring into the castle. "This is nothing but deception! Do you not fear God!? Are you not a devout believer!?" Suddenly revived, the deacon stood up, tears of frustration streaming down his face as he denounced me. His emotions swung wildly, and even at this stage, he was still invoking God—an unstable and precarious fellow. "God is pleased with this outcome, saying, 'What a splendid military tactic.' Just as the convenient bends of monks are called doctrines, the deception of a warrior is called strategy." With those words, I decided to forget about the foolish deacon. I called for my beloved horse, Noir, to be brought by an attendant and mounted it. "Alright, let's head into the castle." On my command, everyone quickly mounted their horses and raced toward the castle. Inside, it was already a hellish scene, a delightful pandemonium of chaos. As for what became of that foolish deacon, there is no record. The history books only mention that "The Lioncourt army, with the cooperation of a deacon within the castle, captured Barka Castle."