Chapter 53:

As the last of the enemy was chased away, they were forced to leave everything behind. The retreat had been semi-organized at first. Several supply wagons were being pulled along with them, and the extra mounts were also being heard. Soldiers lugged heavy packs and moved at little more than a fast walk. Once the cavalry started harrying their flanks, all that was abandoned.

I counted at least three pay wagons and dozens more supply wagons left behind as their coachmen unhooked the horses and rode to safety. Soldiers dropped any loot they had collected from their fallen comrades and ran with their bare minimum.

Everything they weren't carrying on their backs had either been torched or seized by us. All the leftover supplies, armor, arms, and mounts were ours for the taking, scattered around the battlefield. All that was left to do was pick them up. Fred and Max came up to me for orders. Instead of ordering a pursuit, I had them start to strip everything from the field and load up the wagons, sending them back to Alaric city.

I would let Doug and his cavalry harry the remaining troops of Count Roderic back to the city and into the castle. It was perhaps not the most strategic play. However, I still had two days less than a month to wait before my account reset, and I then needed forty confirmed kills to stay for another month. A longer war and a siege would do that quite well.

We camped for nearly a week, picking over the battlefield and sending loads back to the city. My concern over whether paying the mercenaries was worth it was assuaged by how much we brought in. I let the companies take twenty percent of the loot as a finder's fee, which encouraged them to report everything.

The amount they were getting was ridiculous. Even my vassals were happy as they got to carry excessive amounts of loot back with them. All in all, this had been profitable, but it wasn't even close to over.

Almost exactly one week later, we regrouped on the field of battle. The army, freshly supplied and well-rested, marched to join Doug's troops, who had been forming a rough siege on the castle. They hadn't been able to stop large parties and the military from escorting goods in and out, but they kept watch and made sure everyone was on their toes.

Soon we would surround the castle, and the true siege would begin. I had left this intentional to make sure they had enough food to last a month or more. However, I had left instructions for Douglas's men to start making our lives a little bit easier. Before they were aware of a real siege, many saboteurs had slipped into the city. For now, they lay low, but when the time was right, they would act.

My five vassal barons met me in my command post, and I prepared a short speech about honor and the glories of battle, which was well received. After that, though, came the orders.

"Baron Ridge, I release you to pursue your own struggle with Baron Summers. Either have them surrender and swear vassalage or take their lands. I do not care."

He bowed and left. One by one, I instructed each of my barons to go after the remains of the barons that had allied against me. All of Count Roderick's vassals would fall to mine before the month was over. They had lost the majority of their troops and coin, and most of them had been replaced by young, inexperienced heirs.

These would be easy to convince to switch their allegiance to me, or their seats of power would be taken and their cities held. It made very little difference to me, but Roderick would not be getting any support from his vassals.

With nearly four thousand men of my main force, I surrounded the city. We cut off any access in or out and sat and waited. We dug in fortifications and built siege towers. We played loud music and partied late into the night, making the sentries on half rations in the city watch us party.

***

A week later, Baron Ridge joined us with nearly a thousand men. Apparently, his honor had been assuaged by a duel that Baron Somers had agreed to in a last-ditch attempt to save his barony.

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It hadn't worked, but it had meant that Baron Ridge had captured all his remaining soldiers intact, as well as his vault, and even spared his family. In fact, there were plans to marry Baron Somers' daughter to his nephew. It had been more of a personal grudge rather than a family grudge. With that darkness taken care of, Baron Ridge seemed almost a different man—much more relaxed and sad rather than explicitly angry. His thousand soldiers joined mine, and the morale of those in the city fell even further.

***

The two weeks passed in relative peace. There were only a few sorties from the castle as they tried to escape, but they were quickly put down without mercy.

First, their heads were returned to the castle and city via trebuchet. A couple of days later, their bodies were, as well. The second time they tried to ride out was the last.

During the last week, I had actually been ignoring several pleas to come to the negotiating table. Their polite requests to reach some sort of arrangement were starting to become increasingly frantic, almost to the point of begging. Despite the consternation of all my advisors and the military coil's consternation, I didn't respond to a single one.

I had different priorities, after all.

***

The month came to an end, and my quota was reset. I now owed Loki 40 souls sent to Valhalla. I wasn't concerned in the slightest. I would overpay by orders of magnitude again.

Actually, knowing there was an afterlife did surprisingly little to ease my conscious, though. The end of life was only part of what made death so terrible. No, it was those left behind that truly would suffer, I knew. But I consoled myself with the assurances that something like this would have happened anyways. Besides, my tactics might have cost more time, but they probably saved lives overall, right?

Once I confirmed that the medallion had, in fact, ticked over, I stood up from my meal and declared, "I will speak to their representative now." It was in the middle of lunch that I had taken to having with my commanders and vassals—a rather large crowd of around ten people. Over the past couple of weeks, we had all gotten to know each other rather well. Unfortunately, my medallion didn't tick over in the morning, but exactly at the time when I arrived in this world, sometime around noon. This caught everyone by surprise.

Of course, I could have waited, but I was ready to go home as anyone else. So, I wanted to get this over with. A message was sent, and I penned the most simple and insulting message I could. I didn't actually want them to surrender—not simply. I needed at least a little bit of a skirmish. But I did want to get their morale as low as possible. So, as the messenger got within shouting distance of the wall, he stood on his horse and shouted, "The Count Alaric will now accept your unconditional surrender!"

Without waiting for a response, he left. My vassals and I had a good laugh. There seemed to be a large commotion coming from the walls. Perhaps they were actually considering it. From what I knew about Count Roderic, that seemed unlikely. He would like to fight to the last man. But I guess I couldn't rule out something like a mutiny.

"Baron Ridge," I asked, "care to make a wager on whether he accepts the surrender?"

"No. I like my coin too much," he replied.

I grimaced, looking around to see if anyone else wanted to gamble. It was one of our few pastimes here, and I had gotten quite into playing cards.

"How about what form the response will take?" young Baron Belfry suggested. His father had unfortunately died during the siege—of natural causes, of course—and he was still fitting into his role. He tried a little too hard to emulate me, which honestly wasn't a good idea for his long-term health.

The other barons seemed to agree.

"I think no response," Baron Ridge claimed.

"I'm tempted to agree with you," I said, "but I think it'll be quite a rude refusal."

"Anyone want to bet on a polite refusal?" Belfry asked.

No one else responded. He sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll take the polite refusal."

We didn't have to wait long before the drawbridge fell down, and a single messenger walked to the edge of it. Baron Ridge grumbled something about having kept his mouth shut anyway.