“There are few lords in this day and age who honestly report their crop yields. They know that the more they report, the more will be taken away. Now, we’ve already completed our reports for our harvests up to this year, but we’re talking about grain, right? The grain that was harvested two years ago or more no longer exists, so there’s no way the outstanding amount can be collected. They can fine us, but they can’t get that grain back.”
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t say anything?”
“It’s the empire’s fault that they didn’t notice the errors. We should just feign ignorance. Since we didn’t know what was happening until now, we only have to maintain the act. Then it’s nothing more than a minor crime. You’ll probably still be reprimanded for not keeping a close enough eye on your estate, but now that we understand what went on this year, all we have to do is send in accurate reports from here on out. The only problem is that we’ve already submitted the first report for this year, and it claimed we had a bad harvest. It would be suspicious for us to suddenly report a good one.”
“What is the difference between the real and false figures this year?” Arnald asked, deep in thought.
“Since we’ve been sending the estate extra grain already, even if the people here consumed it all, we’d still be looking at an amount equivalent to eight months’ worth.”
“That much?”
When Byletta looked at Arnald, he had a strange expression on his face. Though the amount seemed larger than he’d expected, he didn’t appear to be about to raise any objections to her plan of action, so she simply ignored him.
The government reports were sent every year, once after the harvest and again in the spring. The first was a rough report, and the second contained the actual figures.
It was currently summer, so they were in the midst of creating the report for the fall. In other words, they were at the point where they were laying the groundwork for the rough estimates.
“Then what is your strategy to manage the difference?” Count Swangan asked tiredly.
Byletta smiled.
“We’ll have it stolen by thieves.”
At the furious ringing of the bell, Byletta jumped up from her bed and grabbed the sword she’d left leaning against the bed post.
Opening the door and exiting into the hall, she saw Arnald was already there, standing at the ready. Even though it was nighttime, he was wearing his usual daytime outfit of a shirt and slacks. Like Byletta, he also had a sword in his hand.
“Do you really mean to face them?”
Arnald’s voice was clear. It was so calm, it sounded like he’d been awake the whole time. Byletta had heard that soldiers often participated in nighttime drills and midnight marches, so perhaps he was used to being awake this late.
“Not someone to hide away meekly at times like this, are you?” he asked.
“If that’s what you’d rather do, why don’t you go and cower in your room?” Byletta remarked over her shoulder.
She ran away without waiting for a reply and headed toward her father-in-law’s room on the second floor of the opposite end of the manor.
Instead of wearing nightclothes, she was in a simple dress. It would’ve been nice to have a pair of pants like a typical soldier, but there was nowhere for her to get any. Still, after wearing the simplest clothes she could for the last few nights in preparation for this moment, knowing she could go back to her usual nighttime wear was a relief.
It must have been the dead of night. The only illumination to be found as Byletta advanced through the familiar corridor came from faint beams of moonlight. Here and there throughout the manor and courtyard, she could hear scuffles erupting.
“I’m not concerned about me. I was just looking after your safety, my wife.”
“If you wanted a meek wife, you should have looked elsewhere.”
Byletta dodged the strike of a strange man who suddenly lunged at her from the staircase landing, only for Arnald to pounce on him from behind and cut him down. Ever the soldier, he looked at home handling a sword.
Byletta knew that despite Arnald’s slim appearance, his body was quite well muscled. She’d been forced to know—it would have been hard to miss, given she’d lain with him.
Still, she didn’t like the thought of complimenting the man. She wasn’t sure why, but she simply could not bring herself to praise him.
In the madness, Byletta and Arnald encountered an enemy emerging from the direction of her father-in-law’s bedroom. Perhaps he had heard them arguing. Regardless, she found herself rather glad of the timing, as it saved her from having to speak any further with her husband.
By the time the man brandished his sword, Byletta had already found an opening and shot forward to cut him down. Her sword was lightweight, so her fighting style was focused on speed. She knew the easiest way for her to deal with an opponent was to incapacitate him in a single blow.
“That was well fought.”
“I’m honored by the compliment,” Byletta said.
But in truth, she was not pleased at all. Perhaps it was guilt over not complimenting him for his own proficient fighting mere moments before, or perhaps she just knew her husband’s condescending nature far too well.
When she came to a standstill, Byletta could see flames engulfing the storehouse at the rear of the manor.
“It’s begun.”
“They’re attacking just as we anticipated, but there are more assailants than we expected. Be careful.”
Byletta glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye while watching the flames. His shoulders seemed to shrink in a little, almost like he was embarrassed. It had been his idea to herd the enemy in a certain direction by restricting the paths of attack they could take—a cunning strategy that only he would have thought of. It looked like he wasn’t only known as the Silver Fox of the Battlefield for his hair.
Back when Byletta had expressed her desire to burn the storeroom, Arnald had been the one to speak up and point out an additional point of penetration from the courtyard that they needed to block off. The gardener had also been reluctant to the idea of setting the storehouse ablaze in the night, but her husband had been able to talk him around. Byletta watched the flames, designed to inflict as little damage as possible, as she ran all the way to her father-in-law’s room.