With defeating an army five times their size—and almost without losses—morale was at an all-time high. His men seized the nomads' food supplies and feasted as if there was no tomorrow.
They were rowdy; the reserve camp echoed with singing and smelled of ale.
But Konrad had every reason to celebrate, too.
Securing looting rights made him filthy rich overnight.
News of his victory spread like wildfire, merchants flooding his duchy like vultures.
They wanted a share of the exotic spoils and brought much-needed supplies and silver. So, being the peddler's favourite prodigy, Konrad didn't want to disappoint.
"Your bow's a terrifying weapon—no, a magnificent piece of art," traders boasted.
By far, they were the most popular items. And he had thousands.
"Can't argue with that," he smirked. He received them in his new tent, also a spoil of war. "Even if I have to fight these nomads, I can't praise their craftsmanship enough."
He couldn't pull the string back all the way, let alone aim it; that's how strong these bows were.
But his men were adamant he'd keep the best one they could find, and well, he didn't refuse.
It was beautiful, becoming an excellent showpiece for his guests.
They almost salivated at the sight of it.
"This could be worth twenty gold alone," Konrad claimed. "But the regular ones are excellent, too. I wouldn't sell them for less than five gold pieces—and only in limited numbers."
Which was already a huge fortune.
He still remembered how long it took him to save up for his first sword. Years for a single gold piece. And then it snapped in half during the first encounter with the Griphlets.
If it weren't for Welf and him fixing it up—
Konrad shook his head.
No time to feel nostalgic yet, even if he had a long day behind him.
He armed his personal men-at-arms first.
Most of the tribesmen were hunters, making the best use of their new weapons.
Then, he sent another hundred bows as a gift to his twin, along with five hundred of the leather jerkins they seized. They were also excellent work, but less popular with the local nobility.
Knights of Kasserlane preferred much heavier metal plates.
It was rather fortunate that the tribals didn't like to burden themselves the same way. Now, he bolstered his forces behind the frontlines and secured Nimrod's loyalty.
All, without spending a dime.
Only then did he allow the nobles to take some bows for themselves, outfitting their guard.
Not for free, of course. Oh no.
Though he gave them a little discount, he made up for it when negotiating with the merchants.
"The dukes wanted to seize them all, but I saved the best for my most loyal trade partners," he claimed. "Once the neighbouring kingdoms learn of this boost of firepower in Kasserlane—"
"They'll pay its weight tenfold in gold," a merchant yelped, unable to contain his excitement.
Because the best way to avoid saturating the market was to instigate an arms race.
"I'm willing to pay an extra gold per piece if you let me buy two dozen."
"No, I brought winter clothing and non-perishable food. I should get priority."
The peddlers were almost at each other's throats already, and Konrad had to suppress a smile.
"You're all my precious friends and allies, so I can't play favourites," he claimed. "But I only have five hundred bows I'm allowed to sell, so they'll have to go to the highest bidder."
In truth, he still had over three thousand of them waiting for their new owners.
Oh, and also five more groups of merchants that he was careful to keep separate.
He was getting the hang of this negotiating business, even without Eyna to help him out.
"Seven gold a piece," someone shouted a bid. "And I'll return with more goods next month."
"I'd be content with five bows, but if you'd be gracious to sell me some of your herd—"
Right. The robust nomadic horsebreed was popular, too.
He kept a thousand of them for Halaima, but he still had plenty, and not even the knights could buy them all up. If only the nomads had more draft-horses as well—
"Let's sort out the weapons first," he suggested. "Livestock comes after."
The last thing he wanted was the merchants emptying their purses before the main event.
He wanted to milk them dry before the next big battle. That way, he could've focused on the frontlines without worrying about the logistics. So, he had to sell the most expensive items first.
"I'll take a hundred of these recurve bows, no matter what it takes."
And the bidding continued. It was easy to understand why.
Most archers in Kasserlane and the countries west of them used traditional longbows.
They were big, bulky, slow to handle, but still devastating when used right.
On foot, over open ground, from static and well-defended positions.
The nomads' bows were much more compact, yet even more powerful. Their double-curved, layered construction enabled faster reloads. Even horsemen could use them from the saddle.
But they took years to make. And only the best craftsmen could attempt them.
People might've thought that crossbows were the strongest weapons since they were expensive.
Yet, recurve bows punched through armour all the same, while being much faster.
Well, if someone had the strength that Konrad did not have.
But he had magic to take care of anything a recurve bow could, anyway.
Not so much an ordinary person. These were like the nuclear weapons of this world, and they cost as much, too. And still, the peddlers were happy to pay up, trying to outbid each other.
'Enjoy while it lasts,' Lily chirped. 'Party's soon over.'
'What? Why?' Konrad asked, struggling to split his focus between the present and the telepathy.
'Horsemen approaching.' That was all she thought.
Way too concise for her.
'Maple?' he reached out, heart pounding faster. 'Told you to warn me if the nomads arrive.'
From the dragoness, he felt nothing but confusion.
'There's nothing on my end, though,' she moaned. 'Empty steppes for a hundred miles.'
'Ah, nope, I didn't mean nomads,' the demoness clarified. 'It's a few horsemen from the west.'
A few, but from the heart of Kasserlane? How did they get behind them?!
'For the spirits' sake. I said not nomads, Konny boy. Pay attention to your first wife.'
Right. It still wasn't as easy to split his attention as he would've liked.
He had to excuse himself from the merchants and their bidding war to clear his mind.
'Reinforcements?' he asked then, his heart rate still faster than usual.
'Well—they could be,' she admitted. 'But I've a bad feeling about this.'
He was about to call his dragon, but Maple was faster.
'From this far, they look like knights. Fancy ones. Like the royal guard.'
He had no idea why they'd come here, but—way to scare him for nothing.
Konrad took a deep breath to calm himself, right as Gabrielle joined in.
'I can feel it, too,' she muttered. 'This is no good.'
And there his calm went again. Big silence, and no matter how much he strained his mind, he couldn't catch a glimpse through Maple's eyes. The dragon wasn't cooperating with him.
'Come on, talk to me,' he demanded. 'Is it Maou Midori?'
'No, not quite,' the angel said, her thoughts all messy. 'But the king reappearing here and now seems almost as bad to me.'