Chapter 11: Civil War Era - Pierre de Lafayette
In the northern realms of the Kingdom of Francia, not far from the capital, Lumière.
Amidst a blustering winter blizzard, I rode my horse against the chill winds, my body involuntarily shrinking against the cold.
The biting frost penetrated my armor, seeping through the layered leather and into my skin.
Despite the impossibility of waging war in the depths of winter, armies from both the First and Second Princes’s factions, almost without exception, remained encamped in the north.
They had fought for too long to simply withdraw and regroup for further conflict, their mutual distrust too deep-seated.
Moreover, most of the lords believed that this costly, stationary stance was proof of their loyalty to the prince they supported.
Otherwise, they clung to the hope that by marking their presence in this way, they could increase their share of the sweet spoils to be had after a victory in the civil war, thus offsetting their current losses.
For such reasons, the kingdom’s populace found themselves strained to feed the armies gathered from all over, now facing off in a standoff.
After a long ride, I finally reached a military stronghold, its flags fluttering, adorned with the roaring lion, the emblem of Lafayette.
Despite the snowy chill, the soldiers on guard stood sharp and alert. Recognizing the emblem on my armor, they saluted and cleared the way for me.
In the midst of numerous battles, these seasoned warriors displayed a strict military discipline and precise movements.
Just by their appearance, they did not seem like an army worn down by a prolonged civil war.
Having been here before, I found myself awkwardly lost within the camp until a knight, acting as my guide, came to fetch me.
“Welcome, Young Duke. The Duke has been expecting you.”
I recognized the face of the knight who came to greet me, but his name eluded me.
I should have known it, but I couldn’t recall.
It wasn’t strange, though.
After my disgraceful performance in the duel with Gaston, I had practically secluded myself in my domain.
But then, a different thought struck me.
After the Duke’s death, I had led Lafayette’s forces.
Still, not knowing the name of this knight of the Lafayette household was because...
He had died before I took command of Lafayette’s army.
“Please, lead the way,” I said, despite being lost in thought.
At that moment, I realized this was a dream.
This was a memory from before my return, around the time when I was summoned by the Duke to his encampment.
I followed the knight towards an imposing tent, grand and luxurious, befitting the reputation of the ‘Blue Knight,’ known as the strongest in the kingdom.
The knight, having asked me to wait momentarily before entering the tent, emerged with an ambiguous expression and respectfully bowed to me.
“The Duke requests your presence inside, Young Duke.”
I already knew why the knight looked so uneasy.
I slowly stepped inside the tent.
The bear skins and fine carpets covering the floor belied the tent’s purpose as just a military encampment, giving the illusion of a noble’s lavish country house.
Beyond a partition, placed to obstruct the view from the entrance, lay treasures bestowed by the former king to the ‘Blue Knight’, who had earned countless military honors by defeating the armies of the Germanian Empire and its emperors and princes.
It felt very much in character for the Duke to carry these items wherever he went, arranging them in his tent for all who entered to naturally behold.
As I passed these proud trophies of the Duke and stepped further in, the interior of the tent came into view.
The walls were adorned with blue-gleaming armor, a symbol of the ‘Blue Knight’, along with famous swords and military regalia, either gifted by the late king or seized as spoils of war.
Beneath them, a lavish dining table was set, making one forget that this was a makeshift lodging in a military camp.
There were prepared wines and an opulent meal of half-eaten whole-roasted pig, chicken, and more – a spread not even common in a noble manor house.
Turning my head further, I saw a luxurious bed, rivaling those in grand estates.
My father, Duke Hubert de Lafayette, sat on the bed, clad only in a robe.
Behind him, a woman, her nudity barely covered by a blanket, looked at me with interest. I couldn’t tell which of the Duke’s mistress she was, as she was unfamiliar to me.
Or perhaps not. Being aware that this is a dream, maybe she is someone I know after all.
Standing a little away from the Duke’s bed, I bowed my head to him.
“I am Pierre de Lafayette, son of the great ‘Blue Knight’, Duke Hubert de Lafayette.”
My voice emerged tense, slightly quivering with nervousness.
The Duke’s lips parted, and his voice, cold and low, filled the space.
“Pierre.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I hear you requested a reduction in the military levies. Explain yourself.”
His icy tone seemed to cut through me, reminiscent of the times when I lacked confidence and felt diminished.
Yet, separate from the fear felt by my dream self, my conscious mind, aware this was a dream, observed the scene dispassionately.
“M-my apologies, Your Grace. With the extensive military drafting, the yields of our lands have diminished. Additionally, frequent looting from other territories is occurring. In these times of prolonged civil war, with the common people’s lives deteriorating, it is challenging to fully meet the military funding demands you’ve set—”
I was interrupted as the Duke leaned forward slightly.
Then, suddenly, there was a flash before my eyes.
Barely maintaining my balance, I saw a woman’s shoe on the ground.
“Ah!”
I couldn’t tell if the sound from the woman, half-reclined on the Duke’s bed, whose shoe was thrown, or if it was me.
A wave of pain surged through me as blood trickled down my forehead.
“What a pathetic creature. Our family’s fate hangs in the balance of this civil war, and you speak such weak words.”
Father, for a war that’s supposedly about our family’s fate, you certainly live luxuriously.
The cold words my consciousness muttered went unheard by the Duke in my dream.
“Increase the war taxes from the estates.”
“But, Your Grace, continuing in this manner might spark a rebellion among the commoners—”
“Then suppress it. What do you think I appointed you as a steward for? Even someone like you should be capable of quelling a rebellion of lowly peasants.”
In the eyes of the man who once taught me a noble’s duty, before he received the title of Duke and the accolade ‘Blue Knight’, there was no longer any passion or honor.
What had taken their place was an insufferable pride and a desire to satisfy his own vanity.
When I remained silent, the Duke spoke again.
“If you really find it distasteful and are so concerned about the lowly ones, lead your army and plunder other territories. Just as others have done, you too can send the required military funds that way.”
Ultimately, I had to follow the Duke’s orders and raid neighboring lands to raise the military funds.
Justifying to myself that it was better than wringing my own people dry, I turned a blind eye to the despair and cries of others.
The blood that had trickled down my forehead and clung to my chin fell with a ‘drip’, staining the carpet on the floor.
Seeing this, the Duke clicked his tongue and said.
“Tsk, I suppose that’s enough for you to understand. You may leave now. I hope not to be further disappointed by you.”
“...I apologize, Your Grace. I shall take my leave.”
As I staggered away, the Duke called out from behind me.
“I climbed from a mere knight to a Duke with nothing but a sword. If you’re my son, get a grip on yourself.”
Whether this was a belated expression of regret and concern for his bleeding son, or just an attempt to justify that he wasn’t all that bad, was unclear.
The great knight, the strongest in the kingdom, who rose from a simple knight to a Duke.
That was the success story the Duke liked to tell about himself.
But almost forgotten was the tale of the count who gave his beloved only daughter in marriage to a brave subordinate of humble knightly status.
And the story of my mother, who devoted everything to his rise as a war hero and a Duke, only to die alone and neglected, because her son was a failure.
From beyond the partition in the tent, I could hear the Duke tenderly comforting a whining woman.
Stepping out of the tent, filled with warmth and luxury, completely at odds with the harsh winter outside, the cold air seemed to bite into the wound on my forehead.
Feeling that chill, I awoke from the dream.
***
Quietly, I raised my hand to touch my forehead.
Around this time, before I went back in time, I had been unable to meet the Duke’s demand for military funds due to constant raids. I had sent a letter requesting a reduction, which led to a summons and a subsequent injury from the Duke, but now, no such wound existed.
The only similarity to that winter was the cold wind blowing through the slightly opened window of my study.
“Here is the report you requested, Young Duke,” said Baron Dumont as he handed it to me.
The report revealed that the small village, recently attacked by Count Mirbo’s forces, had suffered significant casualties. However, it seemed to have somewhat stabilized under the management of the newly appointed village xhief, John Miller, thanks to the food and supplies I had sent. I couldn’t help but smile at the report mentioning the villagers praising me.
“You’ve done well, Baron Dumont. While they praise me, it’s all thanks to your and the administrators’ efficient handling of my requests.”
Baron Dumont’s eyes widened, and soon they filled with tears.
“Th-thank you. Seeing you grow up so admirably, I feel I can face Lady Yuria without shame,” he said, suddenly mentioning my mother’s name before cautiously glancing at me with his teary, reddened eyes.
His reaction was both amusing and astonishing, bringing a smile to my face.
“You’ve served my mother’s family even before the Lafayette Dukedom was established, Baron. I am also grateful.”
The Baron, unable to hold back his emotions, burst into tears again. I handed him a handkerchief and comforted him before finally managing to send him out.
After he left, I stayed in my office, overseeing and managing the affairs of my lands.
The estate, which had been plagued by raids before I went back in time, was now peaceful, and the autumn harvest had been reasonably good.
At least this year, we should be able to spend a relatively trouble-free winter.
The conflict between Count Mirbo and the Lafayette Dukedom was well known in the neighboring territories, and no lord dared to provoke the lands under the Duke.
Struggling to send military funds to the Duke had led me to consider additional taxes, but now that I had taken care of it, thus naturally avoided the need to raid other territories.
I pondered silently about the fate of Count Mirbo’s unfortunate younger son, wondering how he was faring now.
On a different note, Christine, now the Countess of Aquitaine, had generously compensated me for helping her seize control of her house, in return for our secret alliance.
Thanks to her, I was not only able to meet the Duke’s demands for military funds but also had enough resources to prepare for the future.
With the time and resources gained, I worked with Baron Dumont to reform the haphazard administration of the Dukedom and rid it of corrupt officials who had been lining their pockets.
After finishing some paperwork, I went to the window and gazed at the training ground in the distance.
I could see soldiers practicing with muskets, a sight that would have been unusual before the revolution. Back then, gunpowder weapons were undervalued, used primarily in cannons for sieges.
Muskets had powerful penetration but were expensive, both the gun and the ammunition. Moreover, knights could protect themselves from bullets using magic.
Being direct-fire weapons, muskets weren’t much better than bows in the Francia Kingdom’s battlefields, where knights often engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
Additionally, the low accuracy of muskets made dense formations necessary, which in turn made them vulnerable to magic attacks. Even mediocre mages could douse packed musketeers with water to render their gunpowder useless.
Thus, muskets were typically weapons of city dwellers and lower nobility who couldn’t afford knights or mages.
However, the prolonged civil war had gradually diminished the number of knights, a trend likely to continue. Meanwhile, the Industrial Revolution, sparked by the Abyss Corporation, would flood the market with mass-produced weapons.
The knights of Francia, adept in magic, were indeed worth a hundred soldiers in combat. But that was their limit unless they were of the ‘Blue Knight’ caliber.
Even if a knight used magic for protection, it was usually only in front, leaving them vulnerable to bullets from blind spots, not to mention the overwhelming force of artillery.
Consequently, the focus of the battlefield shifted from knights to armies, and with the clash of armies, gunpowder weapons began to show their formidable power.
Knowing this, I was actively preparing to make full use of these weapons.
The greatest strength of the musket lies in its ability to transform newly recruited soldiers into warriors capable of killing seasoned fighters with just a bit of training.
I shifted my gaze from the diligently training soldiers to the Duke’s letter on my desk and opened it.
It seemed the Duke, indulging in luxury at the northern front, was quite pleased with the military funds I had managed to secure, along with a portion of what I received from Christine.
Furthermore, my crushing of Count Mirbo’s family, allied with the Second Prince’s faction, had sparked praises for me within the First Prince’s circle, lauding me as a worthy descendant of the ‘Blue Knight’.
Ironically, these were the same nobles who had once mocked me as the shame of nobility, defeated by commoners.
I skimmed through the Duke’s content-filled letter and then tossed it into the fireplace.
Watching the letter slowly curl and burn, I instinctively drew and threw a dagger towards the door, hitting a target dummy right between the eyes, a move perfected through thousands of repetitions.
Deception to make the enemy complacent and then striking them down.
Tactics of digging traps and ambushing to annihilate the enemy.
Archery, often shunned by knights as inefficient for channeling magic and a weapon for cowards.
Even the art of throwing daggers, suited more for assassins.
All these were in stark contrast to the chivalry of the Francia Kingdom, where charging into enemy lines with bravery and raising one’s name through valor was considered the epitome of honor and virtue.
Everything I had built up, in opposition to the Duke of the ‘Blue Knight’, representative of Francia’s knighthood, stemmed from my resentment towards him.
All of this makes up who I am – Pierre de Lafayette.
Once, I failed.
Despite my struggles to deny the hypocrisy of the knights and the vices of the kingdom, to be different from them, in the eyes of the commoners, I was just another blue-blooded noble.
Spring is approaching.
With it comes a plague and the flames that will abruptly escalate the stagnant civil war and engulf the kingdom.
Now, it begins.
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