Mount & Blade: Rebuilding Rome from Mercenaries

As Tancred rode through the gates of Aversa, the winter sun slanted across the grey stone walls, casting long shadows.

The castle stands on high ground, with towers everywhere. The torches on the walls, though not yet lit, are ready to welcome the night.

The messenger led him straight into the main hall, where the castle servants bowed and their footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor. The air was filled with the smell of pine smoke from the fireplace, mingled with the aroma of wine and roasted meat.

Count Richard sat in a high-backed oak chair, draped in a sky-blue cloak, the jewel on the sword at his waist gleaming in the firelight.

Tancred observed the count's appearance carefully once again. Although he was not yet thirty, he already had the typical burly physique of a Norman, with broad shoulders, a thick beard, and a face that appeared resolute and rugged in the candlelight.

But it doesn't look like there's anything urgent going on.

Upon seeing Tancred, Count Richard rose to greet him, his voice booming like a bell:

"Oh, Tancred, my warrior! Sit down, and taste this wine from my Normandy homeland. I'm reminded of the tournament in Mefino; you really made me proud, kid. I still remember Robert Giscal's humiliated expression, hahahahaha!"

"You flatter me, Your Excellency." Tancred bowed and sat down, accepting the silver cup offered by the servant.

The wine was deep red, full-bodied, and had a smoky flavor from oak barrels. He took a sip, observed the count's expression, and complimented him:

"My lord, the red wine from my hometown is still much better!"

"Oh? I heard you own a winery. What, you even know a thing or two about wine?" the count asked curiously.

"I know a little, I know a little," Tancred, who had also enjoyed studying wine in his previous life, mumbled. "Your Excellency, the high-acid white grapes native to Aversa produce white wines that are certainly delicious, with a gentle lemon-like aroma and an exceptionally dry texture. But they are still too acidic."

"On the contrary, the red grapes from Normandy's ancestral homeland produce elegant red wines with hints of mint, which develop into a multitude of aromas with aging!"

"So although your territory is in Aversa, Count, when it comes to the quality of the wine, the red wine from your hometown is still superior!"

Despite Tancred's eloquent speech, he had only ever seen descriptions of wines from two different regions in his previous life.

As for which of the two wines is truly superior? That's completely irrelevant!

Tancred had long seen that the Count was a very traditional person, so of course, things from the ancestral home were better in his eyes!

Count Richard burst into laughter upon hearing this, and patted the armrest:

"Good! That's how Normans should be—straightforward, good is good, bad is bad! Unlike those old codgers my father left behind, who, just to curry favor with me, constantly boast that the produce of my territory surpasses what they have back home!"

He paused, his gaze lingering on Tankred for a moment, then his tone suddenly changed: "Speaking of which, you're quite well-known now. Young, courageous, and skilled in martial arts, I heard you even abducted a beautiful girl from one of my subordinate villages? So, Tankred, what are your thoughts on your own marriage?"

Tancred paused, his silver cup momentarily still. He hadn't expected the Count to suddenly bring up this topic.

As a modern time traveler, he was naturally very familiar with the aristocratic marriages of the Middle Ages.

Medieval marriages were less about formal unions and more about alliances between two interest groups, exchanges of land, armies, and inheritance rights. Mature medieval monarchs often gained powerful external support or the right to claim vast kingdoms through marriages of themselves or their brothers' children.

But his mind wasn't on that yet. After all, having been reborn in the Middle Ages, he still harbored great ambitions. However, his current strength was far from enough to qualify him for a marriage alliance with some powerful forces. His mercenary group had just established itself, the shadow of Giscard lingered, and chaos was brewing in Southern Italy. He wanted to strengthen his power first, and then find a suitable partner.

"My lord," Tancred said cautiously, "I am currently focused on the mercenary group and haven't thought much about marriage yet. Normans are known for their swordsmanship; marriage and children are things to consider once we have a firm foothold."

Richard nodded, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes: "Well said! Unlike those old guys, all they think about is marriage alliances and dividing up land."

He put down his glass, his voice lowering slightly: "Tankred, you know, ever since that scoundrel Marcus, I simply can't trust the old guard left behind by my father and uncles."

"But you're different! You're young, you haven't been in the mercenary business for long, you have the cleanest background, and you don't have any old grudges or resentments."

"In that duel in Mefino, you killed Ralph, which proved you're a man of honor and loyalty. I admire people like you."

Tankred's heart stirred slightly.

Is the count trying to win him over?

As one of the twelve lords, Richard was always overshadowed by the Autel family, and his old subordinates did not trust him, this "young man," which was common among the Normans.

Tancred replied modestly, "Your Excellency is too kind. Though my Conteville family is small, we never betray our word. It is my honor to serve you!"

Richard smiled, took a sip of his wine, and said meaningfully, "Good! Good! Good! Tancred, a warrior like you deserves a good home. I have a younger sister, Emma. She's young and quite pretty. If you're interested, I can arrange it for you!"

Tancred's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm.

Is she considered strikingly good-looking?

Tankred shook his head inwardly.

With Count Richard's burly appearance, thick beard, and shoulders as broad as a bear, how beautiful could his sister be?

Moreover, as a hardcore CK3 player, he knows the 1066 scenario inside and out. If we're talking about the true beauties and heiresses of Southern Italy in that era, it has to be Duchess Matilda of Tuscany! Marrying her practically meant indirectly controlling a duchy!

Tancred smiled dismissively. "My lord, it is truly an honor to have your favor. However, I am but a mercenary, without any land. How can I possibly marry a noblewoman like your sister?"

In Norman custom, one had to own land in order to marry a noblewoman.

Historically, Roger of the Autelville family once became enemies with Robert because Robert, his cunning brother, treated Roger like a beast of burden, only doing his work without giving him any land, which prevented Roger from marrying his fiancée.

Count Richard seemed to see through his thoughts and didn't press the matter, simply nodding and saying, "No rush, no rush. You're still young, you'll have plenty of opportunities to acquire land..."

Before he could finish speaking, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the hall. The count's captain of guards pushed open the door and entered, his face ashen. He whispered a few words in the count's ear.

Richard's relaxed expression froze instantly. He stood up abruptly, slamming his wine glass onto the table with a "bang," splashing red wine all over the floor.

He widened his eyes and shouted:

"What?! My sister eloped with someone?!"