"Ah, excellent!!"
Ingvar burst into laughter, beer foam covering his bushy beard. Ivan looked at his shaggy beard with wistful eyes before turning away.
"It's been so long since I've loosened up like this... What a shame, truly. If there hadn't been restrictions, I would have fought you with my life on the line."
"For someone saying that, you took quite a beating."
"Is winning or losing important? What matters is the struggle itself."
With a remarkably refreshed expression for someone who had been beaten for nearly half a day, Ingvar nodded repeatedly.
"Your skills have improved. Yes, with that level of ability, you're more than qualified to be Einar's son-in-law. Are you planning to change your nationality altogether?"
"That's under consideration."
"Well, nationality isn't really that important... What matters is our Essie's heart. Live well together, and don't make her cry."
Ivan nodded vaguely at Ingvar's words. He had no intention of becoming a real son-in-law or marrying Asidis, but that wasn't important right now.
In reality, Asidis wouldn't want to marry him. She truly sees him as an uncle. This is, therefore, essentially stealing the real marriage and memories with someone she loves that she should rightfully experience someday.
No matter how important the operation is, he feels considerably troubled about ruining his friend's daughter's future. But, in any case, shouldn't he save that friend first?
"Oh right, Essie. This fellow asked why he's a monster, didn't he?"
"Ah? Oh! Yes! Well, everyone who knows Unc— no, Ivan says exactly the same thing as soon as they see him!"
He's... alive...?
Who exactly... did he come to kill...?
Is Krasilov preparing for war...?
And so on.
"I just don't understand what you did ten years ago that makes everyone react that way! Though you're a bit abnormal, that slight oddness is rather endearing...?"
"...?"
"???"
Ignoring the confused group, Asidis looked at Ingvar with a bright smile. Meeting her gaze, Ingvar laughed heartily and said:
"Even though you've clearly lost much of your killing intent now, yes... This uncle was in the same theater of war with you a couple of times when I was active. Back then, you and the guys you hung around with weren't right in the head."
Ingvar stared blankly at the brazier with eyes lost in memories.
"There was a time like that once... Yes, do you remember, Ivan? When you got indigestion while eating."
"No, that never happened."
"It did."
"It didn't. This is a story not worth hearing."
Despite Ivan's denial, Ingvar continued.
"Well, when this guy started dry heaving, those two kids from that damned assassin unit jumped up and tore through the entire military camp."
"...Why??"
"They claimed there was an assassination attempt. The rations came from our side, and if it weren't for Einar, seven supply officers would have been dragged straight to Krasilov's torture chamber. What food did you eat then?"
"I have no such memory."
"Was it pickled cabbage? It was a bit spoiled due to the heat, and no one touched that rotten cabbage, but when you suddenly rushed over and started devouring it, we should have stopped you."
Fermented cabbage...?
The group simultaneously thought of some bizarre traditional dish as they looked at Ivan. Ivan was silently staring at the brazier while downing his beer.
His expression remained calm and composed. However, the slight redness of his earlobes was clearly not due to the alcohol.
The group continued their conversation, laughing merrily.
The banquet continued late into the night. Since the group members had been exhausted from weeks of war and battle, they quickly fell asleep in their respective quarters as midnight approached.
As the still-conscious warriors dragged their drunk comrades out, and servants and maids cleaned up after the banquet, Ivan quietly picked up a cooled cup.
"Ivan."
"Hmm."
Ingvar sat down beside him with a sobered expression, as if he had never been drunk.
"What's the plan going forward?"
"We need to rescue Einar. Identify the traitor, gather more troops... Honestly, if Einar requested support, how many do you think would respond?"
"How many? Well, if it were me... I'd answer 'none.'"
Regardless of respect for Einar, would any jarl respond to the call?
Well, probably not.
Whether they've sworn allegiance or not. All living jarls of Droan willingly respect Einar. They would consider it an honor to fight by Einar's side and would sincerely respect Einar's strength.
But separate from that, ambition is a jarl's instinct.
These people don't have traditions of loyalty oaths or military mobilization orders. Without tradition, enforcing discipline relies solely on the logic of power, and even that won't work if Einar's life hangs in the balance.
If Einar's summons had been issued normally, some jarls might have responded. But what if they found out late, with information blocked as it is now?
-If I wait a little longer, won't Einar just die on his own?
-Then, is there any law saying I can't become king?
It can't be helped. These people have no history of a unified monarch called a "king." To them, a king means the governance system of an extremely powerful and unique jarl, not the monarchy of a feudal society.
Therefore, they don't respect royal bloodlines. They don't revere royal authority. The only rule for Droan men being "strength" meant that this way of life was no different from that of beasts.
In a wolf pack, the leader is driven out the moment his strength fails. That doesn't mean the wolves who followed him didn't love their leader.
It's separate from respect and admiration. For survival, it's proper to follow the command of the stronger one, and everyone has the right to become that "stronger one."
Most monarchs of the United Kingdoms don't easily understand this social structure. That's why, despite Droan's powerful military, they still don't easily blend into the United Kingdoms.
"Most are probably in the same situation as me. They're likely unaware of Einar's summons. But what if they knew and ignored it? Is there a way to distinguish that?"
"If they knew the demons were active, they would rather raise their armies."
"Hmm?"
"They would surround the area where Einar marched and wait. Whether it's Einar or the demons, neither side is likely to emerge unscathed. They plan to attack then."
It's a very basic divide-and-conquer strategy. Best if both sides are annihilated, but if the demons win by a narrow margin, they could blunt their edge and claim to be "Droan's saviors," or if Einar returns alive with difficulty, they could kill him and announce a "duel victory."
Jarls aren't stupid. They all can think this much. Anyone who blocked Einar's summons in advance would certainly do such things and more.
So the task is simple.
"Starting from here, Eldvark, I'll challenge every domain heading east to a duel. If troops remain in the domain..."
"They're not traitors, so as Einar's son-in-law, you'll duel them and secure military aid."
"...And if the domain is empty."
"It means they're traitors."
Ingvar smiled grimly as he continued:
"Then aggressive tax collection would be acceptable."
"I'll hand over all profits generated in the meantime to you."
"What nonsense are you talking?"
Ingvar laughed heartily.
"Why are you giving me permission for what's already mine?"
As if it were obvious.
Eldvark is the center of the east-west trade route. This meant that all trains entering Droan stop at this domain at least once.
The next morning, Ingvar immediately "value-added taxed" all those trains.
"T-This is Tilles'—"
"This is Droan. Will the king of Tilles challenge that?"
"What outrageous nonsense is this! Do you think you'll get away with doing things this way?!"
"This is the problem with United Kingdoms people."
An Eldvark customs official scratched his head and said:
"In Droan, if you lack manners, your head gets split open, but people from other countries don't experience that, so they enter society without proper etiquette education. Need some education?"
Looking at the customs official's menacing "collection tool," the merchant from Tilles shook his head with a pale face. That day, the Eldvark customs office was able to requisition a total of 12 train cars.
Customs officials with sufficient armaments and Ivan's group boarded all those trains. They need to confront all influential jarls of Droan within at least ten days. In simple calculation, it means they need to defeat more than two per day.
Considering potential riots in between, time is even tighter. But Ivan wasn't worried.
If they receive military support after winning each duel, the human resources he can utilize will inevitably increase arithmetically.
He wasn't concerned about supply-related issues from the start. These troops don't need supplies. When supplies run out, they "requisition" from somewhere. That was their tradition... no, instinct, so it wasn't something for a civilized person like him to consider.
Ingvar, forgetting his age and dignity, shouted joyfully from the lead car of the train:
"Tax war!"
-Waaaaaaaaah!!!!
-Plunder!! Kill!!!!
-Ancestors!! Bless us!!!!
All customs officials on the train roared with excitement.
Droan's newly established-mobile-customs office completed preparations for the introduction of an aggressive taxation system. Since the destination was the same country, strictly speaking, they weren't subject to customs duties, but taxation is typically more stringent when applied to one's own citizens.
Imposing high tariffs on foreign countries is called protectionism.
Then what the warriors of Eldvark are doing now could be called free trade. They present the same tax standard to their own country as they do to foreign countries.
Missionaries of an amazingly progressive FTA, which even Kalion in its prime never attempted, were now leaving the Eldvark train platform and beginning to spread throughout Droan.
The vanguard of a bold market opening that would shock even Adam Smith and David Ricardo departed with resounding cheers, inexplicable joy, hope for the future, love, and songs of friendship and blood and death dedicated to ancestors.
"I'm now so ashamed of my country..."
Asidis muttered, burying her reddened face.
On that first day, a total of three domains had to "open their markets" and "approve free trade."
"Didn't Einar tell us not to have customs wars among ourselves! This is a violation of the agreement!!"
"Agreement... Don't use such difficult words...?"
Ingvar snickered at the kneeling jarl. Ulfric Svaldison, the jarl of Drekhalt, was screaming while bound with his face in shambles.
Before his miserable face, Ingvar smiled vilely and said:
"You wouldn't understand anyway."
"You ignorant old man—!! Let me go!! Do you think Einar will forgive this?!"
"Sure, he'll forgive it. Isn't Einar's son-in-law right here?"
At Ingvar's words, Ivan quietly shook his head.
This guy wasn't a traitor, so he was a recruitment target, but Ivan couldn't understand why they started looting as soon as they got off. This wasn't the plan they had devised last night...
But since the milk was already spilled, Ivan stepped forward with a bitter face and said:
"Ulfric. Do you remember me?"
"...'Little' Ivan...? You're alive...?"
"Let's quickly move past that part. I'm sick of it now."
"Who did you come to kill...? Me... or Einar?!"
"That part too, if possible, quickly... Ah, forget it. I give up."
Ivan clicked his tongue and sat in front of Ulfric. He looked down at Ulfric's face and said:
"There's a traitor among the jarls. He wants to kill Einar. You don't seem to be on that side, will you join us?"
"After putting me in this state?"
"If you join, I'll recognize all rights to the items you've looted from now on."
"...? Are you going to commit such acts in other cities too?"
Ulfric stared blankly into Ivan's eyes, then briefly scanned his surroundings with wavering eyes. After observing his warriors all bound and sprawled on the ground, he raised his head.
A gradually deepening smile began to form at the corners of his mouth.
It's not even breaking Einar's rules, and they're even marching to save Einar?
Well, this sounds legal.
"Good, good.... It's a tax war—!!"