Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: The Bridge Trial
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After nearly a fortnight of travel, Eugene finally arrived in Earl Winslon's territory.
"Keep going down this road and we'll hit a village. Let's stay there tonight."
"Yes, Master."
Judging by appearances alone, Luke—dressed more like a knight's squire than a slave—responded immediately.
Eugene had invested heavily in Luke, who had performed admirably during their time on the Karsbargin Peninsula.
Partek and his crew, having signed a formal contract, could afford to repair or replace their gear with the hefty sum they'd earned this time. But as a slave, Luke's income was limited to a few silver coins, so he couldn't.
As a result, Luke was now clad in chain mail from head to toe, topped with a plate coat, and armed with a long pentagonal shield and short sword.
True to his Brantian roots, he had a sturdy build and a fierce countenance. Now, no ordinary mercenary would dare meet his eyes.
"Hmm! Slave Number One's turning out pretty useful. Raise him right, and he could reach Big Bear's level before he joins the clan?"
Eugene silently agreed with Mirian's rather sharp assessment.
With his exceptional physique, solid skills, and sharp mind, Luke had every potential to become an outstanding knight.
"But to think there's someone even quieter than the old kid. Unbelievable."
Luke was even more tight-lipped than Pellid.
Pellid at least wore his simple heart on his sleeve, but Luke—raised from childhood with rigorous knightly training—barely changed expression.
Birds of a feather flock together, or rather, like master, like slave?
In fact, there had been times when Eugene and Luke rode in complete silence for half a day straight, not exchanging a single word.
Even the conversation just moments ago about staying in the village had been their first in two hours.
"Master, even if he's a slave, you gotta watch that one. He's got more snakes coiled up inside him than a dozen in my pond. One day, out of nowhere, just like those naked fish-suckers in my pond, he'll—Gah!"
The spirit's head caved inward after taking a solid punch to the crown for the first time in ages.
"N-Nuuhh..."
Mirian, forcibly liquefied, sloshed limply into the pouch's depths. Eugene corked it tight.
Eugene glanced at Luke, who rode quietly a short distance ahead, then called out to him.
"Luke."
"Yes, Master."
"Aren't you curious why I only brought you along?"
"I am."
"Then why didn't you ask?"
"I figured you had your reasons for bringing just me. And those reasons, as always, would be the right ones."
It could have been the pinnacle of flattery, yet Luke's face remained utterly impassive.
Because it was his honest truth.
* * *
Lately, every day felt overwhelming yet joyful for Luke.
A year ago, defeated in battle and taken captive, he'd thought his life was over.
But the second master he'd come to serve in this foreign land had reignited hope and ambition within him.
Incredible skill. A breadth of spirit vast as the sea.
And luck so profound, it could only be divine intervention.
Luke now believed that by following this young master of limitless potential, he could achieve the ideals he'd long dreamed of.
'The Knight King. Master Eugene is the Knight King reborn.'
A legendary hero known to every aspiring knight in the island nation of Brantia.
Luke had nurtured his dreams listening to tales of the Knight King since childhood.
Defeat and enslavement had dimmed those dreams, but this master in a foreign land had given him a new path to pursue them.
'The Knight King had eight knights: lions in valor, eagles in wisdom.'
Among them, Sir Lalabaine—Luke's second-favorite figure in the tales—had started as a royal prisoner, become a squire, and risen to knighthood.
An eerily similar path to Luke's own, walked centuries ago by a real historical figure.
'Master will surely become the Knight King. And someday...!'
Clutching that unshakeable conviction deep in his heart, Luke spoke to Eugene.
"Even if my life ends, so long as the flame of my soul burns, I will follow you, Master. Doubts about your decisions hold no place in me."
"......"
It sounded profoundly cool, but also a bit eerie.
For a fleeting moment, Eugene wondered if this one might fit better with the retainers than Galpredic.
* * *
After resting thoroughly in the village and doing some basic maintenance, Eugene rode nonstop for two days to reach Winslon, the earl's seat.
They said among nobles, the highest echelons had castles named after their family seats, which matched the Winslon earl's house exactly.
As befitted the stronghold of one of the kingdom's premier nobles, Winslon was vast and bustling, protected by towering walls.
It fell short of port cities like Maren or Mopren, but among the villages Eugene had personally visited, nothing compared.
'One of the kingdom's top three great nobles, huh. Makes sense.'
"Welcome to Winslon, sir knight. Here for the knight's tournament?"
Proving the earl's prestige, even the guards wore hauberks—chain mail reaching the thighs—and round helms, far from ordinary soldier fare.
"Kieeh!? If soldiers are this decked out, what do the knights look like? The real money's here!"
Sympathizing inwardly with Mirian's exclamation, Eugene told the guard,
"Yeah. Yan of the Eugene house."
"Understood. Will you sign, or use a seal if you have one?"
Considering many knights were illiterate, the Winslon house had made accommodations.
"Both."
Eugene rarely got chances to use the seal he'd had made, so he carefully wrote his name and pressed the black dragon-embossed ring firmly down.
The crest was impressively ornate, but the handwriting? Well...
A bit cute.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Sir Eugene."
Script and personal seal marked him as rare among knights, so the guard's demeanor grew even more deferential.
"You can head straight to the castle, or stay in the village if you prefer. Just, no armed brawls in town until the tournament ends."
"Been a lot of trouble?"
"True knights of honor and chivalry wouldn't dream of it. But some overly confident in their blades occasionally make... regrettable mistakes."
"Hmm."
Eugene was inwardly surprised.
Not by bold knights starting knife fights in the earl's own village.
But by the guard's refined, confident speech—hardly fitting a mere sentry.
"Well then, Sir Eugene. We wish you glory in the tournament."
"Thanks. Mind sharing your name?"
An unusual request for Eugene, but in this place with no familiar faces, he liked the man.
"Me, sir?"
"Yeah."
The guard's eyes flickered oddly as Eugene nodded.
But it passed in an instant. Flashing a bright, white-toothed grin, he replied,
"Langslo. Rangslo Langslo. Just Rangslo's fine."
The surname confirmed noble birth.
Great houses like Winslon even used noble stock as soldiers—another rumor verified. Eugene nodded.
"Right, Rangslo. See you around."
"Yes. Until next time."
Leaving Rangslo—who snapped a crisp salute, smile gone—Eugene entered Winslon.
* * *
'Impressive.'
Eugene marveled at the broad stone bridge, wide enough for two carriages abreast, leading to Winslon Castle at its end.
"Kieeeek!? M-Master! Forget all that dumb stuff I said before! That's a real castle! A Demon King Overlord belongs in a place like that! Ooh yeah! Kieet! Kieet!"
Mirian's full-throated frenzy was understandable, desires unleashed.
Among castles he'd seen firsthand, the Archibald seat had been the largest.
But Winslon Castle looked twice its size.
His own castle under construction in the guild-requested village near Mopren? A mere fraction compared to this gray behemoth.
'Titles don't tell the whole story.'
Brute strength and influence made the boss.
Thus, a mere Baron Bomel could thrash Viscount Fairchilden, or a lowly knight like him could hold a private audience with Essendra.
"Master, Master! In a castle that fancy, even I'd stay a thousand—Guh!"
Eugene stuffed the unusually hyper spirit into his leather pouch and narrowed his eyes.
'Hm?'
"Master, over there."
Noticing what Eugene had spotted, Luke unusually spoke first, whispering low.
"Knights in the middle of the bridge."
"I see them."
Clop clop.
Sillon and Luke's horses crossed slowly.
The sturdy stone bridge, adorned with intricate carvings, spanned only to the river's midpoint; the rest was a drawbridge lowered from the castle. Likely designed for siege defense.
And right at that boundary stood four armored knights.
Villagers and castle folk glanced warily but crossed unhindered. The knights ignored them.
But as Eugene and Luke approached the line, the knights blocked their path.
"Halt."
The one in barrel-shaped plate armor, with two short swords on his belt, barked gruffly.
"Who are you, and where from?"
"Yan of the Eugene house."
"Never heard of it. Here for the tournament?"
"Yes."
"Dismount. Pass the test to cross."
"Test?"
As Eugene's eyes narrowed, the others stepped forward.
"Tons of riffraff showing up for the winner's prize this tournament. Decided only those who pass get into the castle, sir."
"Decided? Who? The earl?"
"Nah. Us."
"Us?"
The barrel-armored knight snorted derisively, raising his voice.
"Don't play dumb. Or trying to nitpick 'cause you're guilty? Dismount and take the test. Don't think fancy armor gets you special treatment. Who knows—stolen? Fraud?"
"Ah."
Finally grasping the situation, Eugene dismounted slowly.
"So, early birds grabbed all the castle spots. You're weeding out latecomers to secure lodging and cut competition. Right?"
Spot-on, but the bluntness soured their moods, eyes chilling.
"But the guard said no armed fights in the village. Unarmed bout?"
The barrel knight drew his belt short swords, sneering.
"Sir, you idiot? This ain't the village. Bridge—technically the river between castle and town. Earl didn't object."
"Got it."
Earl Winslon was famed for adoring exceptional knights, bankrolling them generously despite wanting little in return.
Which meant he'd despise mediocre, unskilled ones. Hence tolerating these forced "tests."
"Beat me, and you're in. Tournament's basically started—stakes are life or death."
"Hmm. All you lot my rivals too?"
"Hah! Getting it now."
The barrel knight cracked his neck, grinning.
Eugene calmly scanned him and the other three eyeing him amusedly.
"Then fewer rivals gone means better odds, no?"
"Huh?"
"Seems you're the ones not getting it."
With that, Eugene casually raised both hands shoulder-high.
"......!"
The knights' eyes widened as realization dawned.
Swoosh!
Eugene plunged into their midst the instant Luke's quick-thrown battle axe landed in his hands.
(To be continued next chapter)