Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 12 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Oppressor and the Oppressed

A reserved knock echoed through the corridors of Count Salzberg’s estate in the citadel city of Epirus.

“Beloved?” Yulia Salzberg called, even as she heard a woman moan on the other side of the door. “My apologies for interrupting while you’re occupied, but could you spare a moment of your time?”

Apparently the people in the room heard her, because the woman stopped gasping and the bed stopped creaking.

“What is it, Yulia?!” a masculine voice barked from inside the room. “If it isn’t urgent, tell me later!”

He spoke with a confident, overbearing tone, like a master chiding a servant. He’d pulled a young, nubile maid into his room that morning and had been bedding her ever since. But even as his legal wife called out to him, Count Thomas Salzberg felt neither regret nor guilt.

Most people would be shocked by his attitude. After all, it seemed as though Lady Yulia had all the power in the relationship. But even within the nobility, this behavior was unusual.

Nobles did have concubines and lovers. Preserving one’s bloodline was necessary for the longevity of a noble house, so it wasn’t seen as immoral. Yet that didn’t mean one could haphazardly sleep around. Proper order had to be maintained.

A concubine was inferior to a legal wife. They weren’t regarded as poorly as random lovers, but they were still kept out of the public eye. And since they competed for the affections of the same man, wives saw them as an opponent, albeit an inferior one. For example, at a tea party, the concubine couldn’t sit at the same table without the wife’s explicit permission.

Still, being a concubine was better than being a lover. Lovers held a much weaker position, and they weren’t even permitted to set foot in their master’s estate. Even if they lived on the same grounds, they had to live in detached residential wings away from the main household, and they weren’t allowed to visit without explicit permission. And should the master of the household die, a wife would retain her position, as would a concubine. A lover would not. If their relationship with the wife was poor, then they wouldn’t even be allowed to attend the master’s funeral. They would be laid off with a small monetary consolation.

The legal wife held the strongest position, but Lady Yulia was quite an anomaly within the nobility. It was clear that Count Salzberg didn’t see her as his spouse. In modern times, the way he treated her would be considered emotional abuse. Any sensible person undergoing this kind of treatment might demand a divorce, or at least choose to live separately. Sadly, Lady Yulia didn’t have that choice. In noble society, the wife wasn’t allowed to ask for a divorce. More than that, the power balance between them was skewed entirely in Count Salzberg’s direction.

I only work for this man like a slave. I can’t separate from him, nor can I live away from him. I can’t hope to expect any of those things. But...

Lady Yulia didn’t see herself as a fastidious wife. If her husband desired a concubine, she was patient enough to abide by his wishes even if she disliked the idea. She’d even be willing to step down as the legal wife. She wasn’t a noble, just the daughter of an influential merchant in Epirus.

For a commoner, she was born into the more affluent caste of society. She didn’t have to spend her days laboring away in the fields. That was how most people in Epirus lived, struggling for a living. But even if a merchant was more financially secure than a peasant, they weren’t exempt from the class system. They were still commoners, same as the dirty, exhausted peasants.

True, some merchants traveled across different countries and could influence the market trends. One historical example of this was during the Edo period, when a class of merchants were in charge of handling and selling the rice stipend the shogunate sent to its retainers and vassals. Those merchants looked down upon the samurai, who were higher than them within the social hierarchy but far less affluent.

In this world, stipends weren’t paid through actual goods, so such roles didn’t exist. However, some merchants did in fact lend money to the nobility. Even if they were commoners, nobles and even kings could end up owing them. But only a handful of merchants had that kind of relationship with the nobility.

It was said that having no money could spell the end of one’s life, and indeed, debts could relate directly to one’s death. But when all was said and done, it was only a figure of speech. In modern Japan, the law generally applied equally to all, be they politicians or police officers, but that wasn’t the case in this world. Invoking a noble’s ire could lead to one’s head flying. So while some merchants overcame the class system through contracts and funds, most were physically segregated from noble society.

In other words, there was an insurmountable wall between commoners and nobles. The fact that Lady Yulia was originally a commoner didn’t change, even after she married into House Salzberg and assumed that family’s name.

I might carry the name of House Salzberg now, but to him, I’m just a commoner.

The situation she faced now was a stark, painful reminder of that. She was as much a resident of this world as anyone else, so the absurd power the nobility had was nothing new, and certainly not something to be bitter about at this point. All of that would have been acceptable so long as Count Salzberg acknowledged her as his wife.

Their marriage was a loveless political marriage, and given the class difference between them, it wasn’t a desirable union to begin with. Still, even political marriages could blossom into true affection and love, and Yulia was a devoted spouse who supported her husband’s endeavors. Nonetheless, it didn’t take more than a glance to see just how Count Salzberg regarded her. She was officially his legal wife, but in truth, she was nothing more than a servant to this household.

I know better than to expect his love, but...is asking to be treated like his wife so wrong?

She was aware that their marriage was turning cold. Nobles kept concubines and lovers to preserve the bloodline, and she understood that. And she knew Count Salzberg well enough to know his sexual appetite leaned toward younger women.

In this world, women could marry in their mid to late teens. Once a woman reached twenty, she was considered an old maid—not so much among commoners, but certainly within the nobility.

Yulia married Count Salzberg in her teens, but fifteen years had since passed. She took care of her looks daily, so she retained much of her youthful appearance. But for all her efforts and natural beauty, Lady Yulia was still a woman in her thirties. She had the ripe charm of a mature woman, but her skin certainly wasn’t as soft and clear as it had been in her teens.

On top of that, the typical marriage tended to edge into ennui after a decade. Between that and his natural frivolousness, Count Salzberg didn’t even view Lady Yulia as a woman anymore. It was understandable, then, that their hearts would turn away from each other.

Though Lady Yulia could understand the logic, she wasn’t indifferent. Each time her husband treated her cruelly or talked down to her, her heart cried. And little by little, irritation and hatred began building up in the bottom of her heart, like sludge gradually accumulating in a septic tank.

She didn’t let it show, of course. If she were to show any sign of disgruntlement, Count Salzberg would ruthlessly expel her. His wrath would also bring ruin to the Mistel Company. Knowing this, Lady Yulia had only one choice. It was a thorny path, but even so...

“A letter came for you from Baron Mikoshiba of the Wortenia Peninsula,” Yulia said softly, suppressing the desire to scream at the horrible way her husband treated her.

She heard him click his tongue loudly through the door. He was in the middle of his fun, but he still had enough good judgment to understand the situation.

“Fine. Give me a minute. I’ll get dressed.”

Lady Yulia sighed. Count Salzberg’s debauchery was nothing new. After having to lead a frugal lifestyle throughout his adolescence, he now insisted on living in extravagance and with reckless abandon. He had overthrown his own father and seized headship of House Salzberg, and ever since, he’d let his suppressed lust and greed run rampant. He only tended to Epirus because he saw it as a garden to be groomed. Once he no longer needed it, he would find someone else to take care of it for him. Yulia knew this better than anyone.

I’m just a tool to him.

People tended to view Lady Yulia as a strong femme fatale, a woman who overcame the class system and manipulated Count Salzberg behind the scenes. Nothing could be further from the truth, however.

“Thank you for waiting, Lady Yulia,” the maid said as she opened the door.

The moment she did, an obscene stench washed over Lady Yulia. She turned her face, trying to avoid the scent, but the room’s owner didn’t care one bit about her feelings.

As Lady Yulia stood in the entrance to the room, Count Salzberg jerked his chin, signaling for her to enter. “What are you doing? You said you have business with me. Hurry up.” His voice was cold and harsh, laced with anger and annoyance.

Something shattered within Lady Yulia’s heart. It was the last bit of piety and duty she’d held toward Count Salzberg as a spouse.

It wasn’t that Count Salzberg was doing anything exceedingly unusual. He was arrogant and disdainful, but it wasn’t any different from how he’d acted over the last fifteen years. But for some reason, this time seemed different to Lady Yulia. Or perhaps she was different than usual.

Either way, her patience suddenly snapped in a manner she hadn’t anticipated. All the anger and hatred that had built in her for years sizzled up, like magma on the verge of erupting.

Enough.

Emotion filled her heart like a droplet of ink polluting a glass of water. It made her recall the secret meeting she’d had the other day with her father, Zack Mistel, and gave her the final push she needed to go along with the new plan.

Truth be told, up until a moment ago, Lady Yulia still had her misgivings about her father’s plan. Anyone in her position would be doubtful. As much as her husband had oppressed her, she’d spent fifteen years living with him. And since she personally managed Epirus’s internal affairs, she knew full well how great House Salzberg’s military power was. There was a reason it had been charged with protecting northern Rhoadseria for generations.

Epirus flourished as the center of the north’s economic activity, granting it a powerful market. It also stood as the heart of the ten houses of the north, with over ten thousand men at its beck and call.

The army’s commanders were also remarkable individuals, including Signus Galveria and Robert Bertrand—House Salzberg’s Twin Blades. Neither of them was the eldest son of their family, so they weren’t in line to inherit their respective house’s headships. Normally, they couldn’t serve as commanders because of that. At best, they could serve as captain in a baron’s personal army. But their fearsome skill and talent granted them their reputation and titles, and the names of the Twin Blades were praised even in neighboring countries. This was a glory mere knights would never achieve.

Count Salzberg hoped to make them his direct personal vassals and possibly form a house for them, but both of their families refused to relinquish them. That alone stood as proof of their immense abilities.

Who in Rhoadseria can hope to match those two?

Rumors in the streets suggested Mikhail Vanash. He’d won a martial tournament held by the late king, marking him as the strongest knight in Rhoadseria in terms of swordsmanship. Queen Lupis’s attendant, Meltina Lecter, was another option. Though she was a woman, she was elegant and intense with a blade. Some wondered if she could be the successor to Helena Steiner, Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War.

Lady Yulia doubted either of them was a match for Signus and Robert. She didn’t deny that they could give the Twin Blades a run for their money in a tournament match. Maybe they’d even eke out a win.

But things would be different in a battle to the death.

Signus and Robert both entered a battlefield for the first time over two decades ago, when they were in their mid teens. They’d spent their days on the frontlines ever since.

A match wasn’t a real battlefield. There were sometimes duels to the death, but one didn’t have to be wary of enemies coming from any direction in a match.

They really are strong. But what’s really scary about them is...

A chilling fear froze Lady Yulia’s mind. Her husband was a corrupt failure of a noble who had steeped himself in debauchery. He cared little for the internal affairs of his territory and insisted on living in luxury, beckoning beautiful young women so he could rape them. He’d done more corrupt things than one could possibly count. There were very few decent nobles in Rhoadseria to begin with, but Thomas Salzberg was far and away among the most corrupt.

He was a terrible human being, but Count Salzberg was still a fearsome man. Including the times he’d fought under his father, the former Count Salzberg, he’d fought off their neighboring countries roughly ten times. He’d also quelled many bandit and monster attacks. That reputation had faded a bit in recent years, but as the eldest son of his house, there had been a time when Thomas Salzberg was feared as a demon of war.

Lady Yulia wasn’t keen on giving him any credit, but she was aware that had he not been heir to his house, he might have been nominated to be Helena’s successor. He wasn’t quite as skilled in strategy and tactics as the Ivory Goddess of War, but his martial prowess did exceed hers. And in this world, a general’s individual ability was just as important as their capacity for commanding an army. A single knight could swing the balance of a battle, after all.

Making an enemy out of such a monstrously powerful man would be suicidal. But even knowing this, Lady Yulia remained firm in her decision.

Even so, I...

She’d kept this emotion locked away in her heart for many years. It was a dream she hadn’t even been allowed to fantasize about. But once she let that dream fill her mind for just a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to discard it anymore—even if the probability of it happening was terribly slim.

All of that hinged on hiding it from Count Salzberg.

“You are not needed here,” Lady Yulia said to the maid hurrying out of the room. “But do not let anyone approach until we call for you.”

Lady Yulia desperately tried to quell her emotions and feign composure as she slowly walked into the room. Count Salzberg glanced at her for a moment before reaching for a bottle of alcohol sitting on the table. He brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips and sloppily gulped it. He then roughly wiped his lips with the sleeve of his silk blouse.

“That whelp sent me a letter? What does he want?” Count Salzberg said, eyeing Lady Yulia suspiciously before thrusting his arm forward. Lady Yulia deposited the letter in his outstretched hand. “Well, would you look at that,” he continued, snorting. “It’s actually properly sealed. The whelp’s learned to act pretentious.”

The wax seal was a double-headed snake coiled around a sword, identifying it as a letter from Baron Mikoshiba. Count Salzberg had exchanged letters with Ryoma before, but this was the first time he’d seen such an emphasis placed on decorum. Usually he’d just paste the envelope shut with glue.

Count Salzberg examined the letter and picked up a small knife from the room’s corner table to break the seal.

“Now, let’s see what that whelp has to say.”

His eyes scanned the paper, and when he finished reading, he folded it up. A heavy silence hung over the room until he interrupted it with his high-pitched laughter.

“Heh heh. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Hilarious! This is absolutely hilarious!”

Covering his face with his hand, he threw his head back and laughed loudly. He was clearly mocking Ryoma.

“What does it say?” Lady Yulia asked in the most natural manner she could manage, keeping her emotions hidden.

Count Salzberg thrust the letter in her direction. Her father had informed her about the contents of the letter ahead of time, but she had to play coy here. She silently accepted the letter and skimmed it.

“What do you think?” Count Salzberg peered into Lady Yulia’s face, finally suppressing his laughter. He was sneering, but his eyes were full of anger and wrath—outrage at the weak for having the gall to oppose those stronger than them. His gaze, as cold as the glint of a blade, gouged into Lady Yulia.

“It’s...a declaration of war.”

Her impression was correct. The text in this letter couldn’t be described as anything else.

Count Salzberg snorted with disdain. “Stupid woman. That’s obvious. I don’t need you to spell it out for me. What I want to know is why does that whelp think he can openly and publicly oppose me?”

The contents of the letter could be summarized into two points. The first demanded an apology and compensation for House Salzberg and the ten houses of the north’s attempts to send spies into the Wortenia Peninsula and engage in sabotage over the past year. The second insisted that House Salzberg and the ten houses of the north transfer full authority over all their armies to the Mikoshiba barony, for the purpose of restoring the public order and resolving the corruption currently crippling the Kingdom of Rhoadseria.

Each demand was fair. No noble would like their neighbors sending spies into their land. Count Salzberg didn’t recall ever ordering his spies to commit sabotage, but he couldn’t deny that they might have resorted to it depending on the situation.

The request to hand over command wasn’t all that unusual either. Ryoma Mikoshiba was the hero who had quelled the previous civil war and gave Queen Lupis the crown. While relations between him and the queen had soured, maybe even to the point of antagonism, on the surface they were amicable.

By contrast, Count Salzberg and the ten houses of the north hadn’t made any moves during the civil war. When the kingdom had splintered into the nobles’ faction and the princess’s faction, they had remained disinterested and refused to pick a side.

Certainly, Count Salzberg hadn’t been the only noble to spectate during the war. Plus, he was also charged with defending the northern borders. Furthermore, the fighting was centered quite far from him, in the kingdom’s south, near Heraklion. But despite all that, the public regarded House Salzberg unfavorably for its noninvolvement. A national hero asking for rights over his army at a time like this wasn’t all that outrageous.

But that was only one side of the story. Count Salzberg was well aware that the reasons behind this letter were only pretense. Though he had sent spies into the Wortenia Peninsula during Ryoma’s absence, it was worth noting that this wasn’t at all unusual for his position. He was looking into every governor in the area, and other nobles had sent spies into his domain. Nobles naturally wanted to keep an eye on their colleagues and rivals.

Count Salzberg did send spies more persistently in this case, but that was because Queen Lupis had pressured him to do so. He couldn’t be faulted for acting in accordance with the sovereign’s orders. The same could be said for the allegations of sabotage. Defending one’s territory depended solely on the governor’s skill, and Ryoma Mikoshiba knew this.

At first glance, the letter seemed like a request for an apology and compensation, but it was probably sent knowing that the request would be ignored. This meant it was a declaration of war. And citing “restoring the public order” as his reason for demanding command over Count Salzberg’s armies was rather outrageous. What governor in their right mind would ever hand over their army to someone else, especially after Ryoma claimed that Count Salzberg had sent spies into his land for the purposes of sabotage?

Would Count Salzberg ever hand over his defensive army to someone who was clearly antagonizing him? Of course not; the very idea was laughable. Count Salzberg was confident that no sane noble would ever yield command under these conditions, no matter how justified Ryoma’s case might have been.

This meant Ryoma had sent the letter for one of two plausible reasons. The first reason was that he was so utterly ignorant about nobility that he wrote this letter unaware of the consequences. The other reason was that he intentionally sent it knowing perfectly well that his demands would not be respected. And neither Lady Yulia nor Count Salzberg were foolish enough to assume Ryoma was an imbecile who stumbled into success.

“He probably sees the commoner uprisings as a chance to expand his sphere of influence,” Lady Yulia said.

Count Salzberg’s lips curled into a dark smile. The Kingdom of Rhoadseria was currently in a terrible state of affairs. The commoners had risen up in revolt because they were disgruntled with the nobles, while the governors had sent their armies to quell those rebellions. This made the towns and highways quite unstable. Bandits were even cropping up in areas near the capital, which would normally be unthinkable.

“I think I understand,” Count Salzberg uttered. “In this situation, he can mobilize his troops, and the capital would be too occupied to interfere.”

Lady Yulia nodded.

Ryoma Mikoshiba’s position within Rhoadseria was a peculiar one. He’d been given the Wortenia Peninsula, an undeveloped no-man’s-land that couldn’t even yield any tax revenue, to say nothing of producing anything of value. But the trade agreement that had been made between the three kingdoms of the east and the Kingdom of Helnesgoula had ended up making his land quite affluent.

Now, his territory was an indispensable relay point for any trade cogs sailing the northern sea routes. Most skilled merchants had their eye on the peninsula. In addition, the monsters infesting Wortenia provided ingredients and resources that could be sold for high costs. Before, adventurers would only venture into the peninsula to hunt monsters. But Ryoma had built a fortress at the base of the peninsula, on the foot of the Tilt Mountains. It served as a checkpoint, and its presence greatly changed things.

It was hard to discern how much Ryoma was earning, but based on the size of the army he took with him to Xarooda, he was certainly earning more than a baron reasonably should. Somehow, this upstart had gotten his hands on a great deal of wealth. That wasn’t something the ten houses of the north could ignore. Count Salzberg wasn’t as deeply occupied with it, but that was only because Ryoma had handed him the rights to the salt vein. Had it not been for that, Count Salzberg would have demanded his own share of those riches and investigated the peninsula more aggressively.

Queen Lupis feared his abilities, and from her perspective, this situation was incredibly grim. Her displeasure with Ryoma meant conflict would eventually spark between them either way. The ten houses of the north would seek to split his territory between themselves, each squabbling for their share of the pie. And Queen Lupis would seek to reclaim the peninsula for the crown.

Ryoma was bound to understand just how precarious his position really was. This letter was one of his countermeasures.

“The capital’s House of Lords would usually arbitrate a territory dispute between nobles,” Lady Yulia said. “But since he has no connections within the nobility, it’s unlikely he’ll get a fair mediation.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. He’s a nobody,” Count Salzberg spat out dismissively.

The nobles would regard an upstart like Ryoma as a heretic, and nobody would want to help the Mikoshiba barony. Perhaps the Counts Bergstone and Zeleph would take his side, as would Helena Steiner, but it was hard to tell what their support could amount to.

Both of the counts came from families that had existed since Rhoadseria’s founding. Count Bergstone was regarded as a man of principle for not yielding to the nobles’ faction, but his skills made him arrogant, and many of the nobles disliked him for this. Count Zeleph, by contrast, was seen as Bergstone’s henchman and lackey. Their backing would do little to influence the ruling. Even if the Mikoshiba barony was justified in its claim, the result wouldn’t reflect the truth. Justice was decided by majority rule.

Lady Yulia continued, “The more time goes by, the worse his situation will become. Baron Mikoshiba probably decided to expand south before that happened.”

Armed territory disputes between nobles were outlawed. The capital would simply send its forces to quell the attempt, and they would end that noble’s bloodline. But now, when the country was rocked by internal strife, things were different. Even if Ryoma were to steal land with his army, the royal house would be too occupied to criticize him for it.

“Hm... That about sums up his plan, yes,” Count Salzberg said, nodding. Then he folded his arms and fell silent.

It looks like a reckless decision at first, but I don’t think he has any other choice, given his position. The question is whether he’s leaving this to chance, or if he actually has something to boost his chances of winning.

A long silence settled over the room as Count Salzberg considered the possibilities.

“So what are you going to do, beloved?” Lady Yulia asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t like doing this without knowing what’s going on inside the peninsula, but I’ll have to contact the ten houses and gather soldiers,” he replied gravely.

Despite the many spies Count Salzberg had sent to Wortenia, he still didn’t know what Ryoma was up to. He didn’t think it was likely, but there was the possibility that Ryoma had an army that exceeded even his own. He’d mocked Ryoma, calling him an upstart, but Count Salzberg was a seasoned warrior, and his judgment was appropriately sharp.

“So you’ll gather soldiers to crush him on the field at once,” Lady Yulia surmised. “It’s not exactly refined, but we can’t take any risks. I’ll go prepare the letters, then.”

Lady Yulia bowed elegantly and hurried out of the room. Her attitude was no different from usual, but Count Salzberg noticed something was slightly off. He silently watched her leave, as if trying to gaze into her heart.

♱

That night, Lady Yulia entered the grounds of her family home at the Mistel Company. It was already past ten.

I might have been visiting too often recently.

It hadn’t been long since the last time she’d asked Count Salzberg for permission to visit her father. Normally, a married woman would only return to her family’s home for special occasions, maybe once every few years. The frequency with which she visited her family seemed quite strange, even if they both lived in Epirus. It was especially noteworthy since Lady Yulia wasn’t scheduled to visit the Mistel Company that day, and she wouldn’t stay the night even if it meant going back home late. But since her husband had given her permission, she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Lady Yulia handled internal affairs for Count Salzberg, so she had to meet with the Mistel Company, which controlled the economy in Epirus. With that as her reason, she could even get away with spending the night here if need be. She didn’t resort to that, but she did visit her family home once or twice a month. While unusual, it wasn’t worthy of much attention.

A person’s heart can be interesting. I used to hesitate so much before, but now...

Yulia couldn’t shake her fear of Count Salzberg, and she had hesitated to betray him, but now she had made her decision. She felt liberated, like she’d been freed from a curse that had shackled her heart for years.

Filled with that sense of freedom, Lady Yulia reclined against the sofa. A moment later, she heard a knock on the door, which soon opened to reveal her father, Zack Mistel.

“My apologies, Yulia, for holding you up so long,” he said and sat opposite of her.

Lady Yulia shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for coming without informing you ahead of time.”

From a noble’s standpoint, Lady Yulia’s sudden arrival was quite problematic. One would need to prepare to host a noble lady. It was very impolite not to inform anyone that she would be arriving that same evening.

Be that as it may, Zack laughed her apology off. He could tell, as her father, that something had changed in her. He picked up a bottle sitting on the table between them, poured some amber-colored fluid into a glass, and pushed it in Yulia’s direction.

“What are you saying, my dear? No father would turn down a visit from his daughter. However...” He trailed off and silently gazed at Yulia’s face before filling his own glass. “I see it in your eyes. You’ve decided.”

Zack picked up the glass and took a swig. What he meant by that went without saying. The two of them remained speechless for one long moment, during which Lady Yulia thought back on the days she’d spent married to Count Salzberg. She then parted her lips, as if she’d made peace with her choice.

“Yes. I was torn over it for quite a while, but...”

That one sentence was enough for Zack Mistel to see into her emotions.

I see. Finally...

Since the day he had yielded to Count Salzberg and given Yulia’s hand in marriage, Zack had always carried that regret with him—the guilt of warping his daughter’s life for his own ends. But now, the whimsy of fate guided him to a chance to redo that choice.

Zack silently got to his feet and walked over to his work desk by the window. He opened a hidden drawer, took out a single letter, and handed it over to Lady Yulia.