The Artifact and the Witch's Raid (2)
Elena was truly remarkable. With just three lines she had conveyed everything, while also stirring enough curiosity to make him want to meet her in person. At this level, she was every bit the daughter of a noble house.
Cloud slipped the letter back into its envelope and tucked it safely inside his coat. Then he spread a generous meal across the grass and spent the afternoon chatting noisily with Thor, catching up on everything that had happened since they last met.
While they talked, a thought struck him. Thor was impressive. His martial skills were excellent, and his muscles were impressive to behold. How much grueling effort had he poured into becoming a mercenary? The more Cloud thought about it, the more an idea formed.
“Brother, you said you wanted to learn swordsmanship from me?”
Thor chewed the food in his mouth and tilted his head. “Sword, spear, bow—anything’s fine. Now that I’m a twenty-man commander, I figure I ought to learn something.”
“I don’t mind teaching you, but…” Thor’s expression grew thoughtful. “The two-handed sword I use is a broad, heavy greatsword. Passing my techniques straight to you would be impossible with your build. Hmm…”
Thor’s style relied on the sheer weight and size of his massive blade, which was part of its charm, but it was also extremely heavy. Cloud, with far less muscle mass, would struggle just to lift it properly.
“Should I put on some weight?”
“Wahaha! No need to go that far! Not every two-handed sword is big, heavy, and broad-bladed. There are lighter varieties like the flamberge or claymore.”
Thor felt sorry for Cloud. After joining the army he had clearly endured a lot—his uniform was worn and dirt-stained, his face looked haggard and sunburned, and his body had grown noticeably thinner. Pity welled up inside him. Cloud was his savior, after all. If possible, he wanted to pass on not only basic swordsmanship but even the finishing move he had developed himself. Unfortunately, without a greatsword, that technique and its destructive power simply couldn’t be reproduced. The thought left Thor deeply disappointed.
With that in mind, he spoke again. “Still, the fundamentals are the same, so don’t be discouraged. Let’s start with the basics.”
“As long as I can learn something, that’s enough. Sounds good.”
“Exactly! You’re in luck, brother. Among mercenaries, I’m the mercenary of mercenaries! You’ve just become my very first disciple!”
Cloud mimicked Thor’s tone and played along. “I’ll live up to it! The disciple of disciples—your top student!”
“Wahaha! Now that’s what I like to hear!”
After a hearty laugh, Thor continued. “From what I’ve heard, they’re planning to scatter the mercenaries instead of keeping them in one unit. I’d like to be assigned to your squad. You’re sharp, after all.” He recalled how Cloud’s quick thinking had helped them escape the bandits. “In war, a stupid ally commander is more terrifying than the enemy!”
After Thor left, Cloud went through his usual afternoon routine. When evening came, he left the barracks and crossed the training ground, heading for the library. A sudden sound made him glance sideways. In a corner, a pair of soldiers—a man and a woman—were tangled together on an outdoor bench, lost in the night’s atmosphere. He smirked and looked away.
Another noise came from the wide road beside the training ground. Turning his head, he saw several carriages with bright lanterns climbing the hill in a line. They were heading deep into the military district, toward the castle. Perhaps the nobles were holding a gathering tonight.
Sylvia’s words from yesterday suddenly surfaced in his mind. “There’s a banquet tonight.”
He pictured elegantly dressed people dancing, musicians filling the air with lively music, and expensive food and drink laid out on luxurious tables. Though he had never attended one, he had once seen an illustration of a noble banquet in a book. What kind of beautiful dress would Sylvia be wearing tonight?
The thought made him suddenly sad. He felt the gap between their statuses all too clearly.
“Heh.” A bitter laugh escaped him—the laugh of someone who knew how pathetic he looked right now.
He shouted at the night sky. “One day I’ll succeed and live well enough to show everyone! I’ll put every single noble beneath me!”
When he reached the library, the lone guard on duty gave him a silent nod. Cloud headed to the shelves and picked out a book. No other soldiers were reading. Yesterday it had been just him and the guard; today it was the same. Only two people. How many soldiers in the unit could even read in the first place? He was fortunate his father and Barbara had taught him.
Cloud sat and read intently for hours, losing track of time, until the guard approached. “It’s time to lock up.”
Already? Cloud closed the book, stood, and left the library. Outside, the once-calm night sky had given way to strong winds. He pulled his collar tighter against the chill and passed the outdoor latrine when the wooden door creaked open and someone stepped out.
“Whew, that feels better. Thought I was going to burst.”
A man’s voice. Cloud glanced over. The man wasn’t in uniform. His clothes were flashy, but he didn’t look like a noble either. At the very least, no noble would use a filthy outdoor latrine like this. Moreover, there was no family crest embroidered on his garments. So who was he?
Only one possibility came to mind: a wealthy commoner who could never become a noble no matter how much money he had.
The man noticed Cloud and spoke first. “Got a light?”
“A light? You mean something bright and burning hot?”
“That’s the one.”
Cloud pointed with his finger. A bonfire lit the dark path nearby. The man pulled a thin golden case from his pocket, opened it, placed a cigarette between his lips, and walked over to the fire to pick up a fallen twig for a light.
“Want one?” he asked, exhaling a stream of smoke while Cloud watched in silence.
“That’s a cigarette?”
“It is.”
It looked different from any cigarette Cloud had seen before—about a handspan long, rolled in white paper. “Not the usual pipe tobacco, right? This is a new product that’s all the rage in the capital these days. Smaller, lighter, easier to carry than the old kind. They’re expensive and rare, so if you stand on the street with one, young ladies will line up. What do you say? Want to try it?”
He opened the golden case, took out a cigarette, and held it out. Cloud didn’t take it right away; he simply stared.
“It’s expensive. Are you sure it’s okay for me to smoke it?”
“It’s on the house. Just keep me company while I finish this one.”
Curiosity stirred. He had tried alcohol and sex, but never tobacco. The fact that it was pricey and fashionable in the capital only made him want to try it more. He accepted the cigarette, sniffed it, and recognized the scent of the leaf tobacco his father used to smoke. Nothing else seemed unusual, so he put it in his mouth, walked to the bonfire, and lit it with a dry leaf.
“Ah…!”
The moment he inhaled, his head spun. He felt genuinely lightheaded. Staggering, he made his way back to the man, who chuckled with amusement.
“How is it? Tastes good, doesn’t it? Top quality.”
Cloud didn’t answer; he was still reeling.
“New recruit?”
“Been in for over two months.”
“A fresh one, then. Training tough?”
“Manageable. Even fun.”
“First time I’ve met someone who finds army life enjoyable. You’ll be fighting witches soon—aren’t you scared?”
“Haven’t thought that far. Surviving comes first.”
Cloud answered vaguely, thinking the witch hunt had nothing to do with him. The man smirked.
“Most people feel the same. Who would willingly march to their death? They go into hell because they need the money…”
A man in flashy clothes and a man in a dirt-stained uniform—an ill-matched pair. The stranger blew a few practiced smoke rings toward the sky before continuing.
“I’m Serge. And you?”
“Cloud.”
“Well, Cloud, I hope you make it back alive. I’ve got somewhere urgent to be, so I’ll be on my way.”
“Already? You haven’t even finished smoking.”
“You won’t have time either. This city has guests tonight. Quite a lot of them.”
“……?”
Cloud gave him a puzzled look. Serge pointed upward with his finger. Cloud followed the gesture to the sky. After gazing at the distant heavens, one thought remained: Serge was a man who spoke of grave, serious matters as if they were nothing.
***
After finishing the exhausting banquet, Sylvia sat before the mirror in her room. Two maids were attending to her. One carefully brushed her hair while the other straightened the bedding on the bed.
“My lady, you were magnificent tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sir Estra was truly dashing. Proposing in front of so many people like that.”
The maid recalled the scene from the banquet, which had felt like something out of a play. Amid famous merchants, wealthy patrons, and actors, the young nobleman named Estra had proposed to Sylvia, and the crowd had applauded his courage.
“If I had been standing there, my heart would have been pounding so hard I might have fainted. Sir Estra seems like a wonderful man. What do you think, my lady? Will you accept his proposal?”
“Where else would you find someone like that? He’s renowned for his martial skill and handsome besides.”
The maid tidying the bed also found the memory romantic. Just then the door opened and Felipe entered.
“Now, everyone. It’s time for the young lady to rest.”
At Felipe’s voice, Sylvia snapped back to attention. She had been lost in thought and hadn’t really heard the maids’ chatter. The two maids stood with Felipe at the door and bowed respectfully to Sylvia.
“Good night, Lady Sylvia.”
Once the door closed, Sylvia let out a long sigh. She hadn’t given a single thought to Sir Estra’s proposal at the banquet. Something else occupied her mind far more—Cloud. She wished they could marry soon, but the path ahead seemed anything but smooth, and that frustrated her.
Wanting to clear her head, she rose from the vanity and walked to the window. She threw both sides open. A strong gust immediately sent her hair whipping about. The wind felt refreshing. She gazed at the full moon hanging in the night sky, then her brows furrowed.
“What is that…?”
Against the bright moonlight, an unknown flock was flying toward her in a swarm.