Winter Solstice (9)
The Automaton Totality showed no reaction to Kriel's threat. It seemed to have lost interest the moment Arunback's experiment failed. Borrowing Helbrinke Ket's gaze, the king of the automatons looked upon Kriel.
"Always be on your guard. We shall return improved, thanks to today's failure."
Thwack!
There was no point listening further. With precise control, Kriel struck the countess consort on the back of her neck, knocking her out cold, then turned to Armed.
"Here."
Armed handed over the reins of the shadow horse. Orishin felt an unnecessary twinge of anxiety. No head, but it had legs. If this thing weren't a rental, it would've been a formidable rival threatening his position within the group. But since it had a separate owner, Orishin's unique status as the party's one and only horse seemed secure for the time being.
"Looks like I won't need to tear up the whole county after all. I'll return it."
"I see. The uproar caused by that man Arunback ended more swiftly than expected—"
Taking the shadow horse's reins, Kriel tossed them into the air, summoning the headless horse once more.
"Handle the cleanup."
"Hey, where you off to now?"
Kriel glanced at the dullahan holding Arunback's head.
"To its owner. Gotta give it back, right?"
Armed bit her lip but draped a cloak over Kriel's shoulders anyway. On his left hip hung Orishin's horn dagger; on his right, Tuon. Once he retrieved his greatsword, he'd face the king fully armed.
The Wraith King's retainers reminisced about ancient memories—memories of glory and shame. After routing the Evil Dragon and driving it into the depths, the king and his vassals had earned Tirnanog's greatest renown. Most of those bathed in the dragon's scorching blood met different fates. Those who overcame the dragon blood curse gained tireless strength and vitality that even time could not erode.
No one from their era could rival the majesty of the king and his retainers. Even the ancient fairies, proud of their superiority, were moved by their devotion in safeguarding the World Tree. The ancient dwarves, who called themselves kings beneath the earth, acknowledged them as kings above it.
Yes, they were mighty. Too mighty. The Abyss sensed they would be its greatest foe in that age and prepared its schemes. As Kriel had once said, the leader of the Wild Hunt manifests differently in each region. Besides the Wraith King, there were two: a colossal beast condensed from storms, and a demon's remnant. The two entities tied to the Wild Hunt's birth.
The demon used the colossal beast to lure the king into a trap, and in the spot where the beast fell, the Abyss surged forth and swallowed the king. But the demon miscalculated. Even in the Abyss, the king refused to submit. He hunted down and slaughtered the demon in the end.
Yet the demon left a curse: the dragon's blood seething within the Abyss, fused with the otherworld forged by the colossal beast and the Abyss's death throes, birthed the Wild Hunt. Doomed to wander, belonging neither to Tirnanog nor the Abyss.
The king feared not eternal wandering. He had sworn to oppose the Abyss forevermore. But while his dragon-blooded flesh endured eternity, his human soul could not. His old legions gradually lost their forms, reduced to lingering resentment that bloomed into fleeting flowers. Containing their aimless hatred fell solely to the Wraith King.
To ease their pain and resentment, the king's legions entrusted their oaths and vows to him and chose oblivion. Only the Wraith King remembered the vanished old era. With each new soldier recruited to battle the Abyss, the weight of those resentments and the oblivion of his vassals grew heavier.
As even the king drowned in fading memories, lost to the struggle against the Abyss—amid the wheel of fate where the Demon King's birth and demise repeated unchanging—Kriel appeared. A knight brimming with resentment and blood qi, yet farther from the Abyss than any other.
The Wraith King waited motionless in that spot for Kriel. Amid the field of white flowers, Kriel approached the king in his white cloak, a stark contrast in his very being. Black cloak and black armor. The knight astride a headless horse, greatsword slung over his shoulder like soot-covered embers.
Kriel dismounted the shadow horse and raised its reins.
"Returning the borrowed horse."
The dullahan, who had pursued Kriel from the lord's castle, accepted the reins in the king's stead. It bowed to Kriel and gestured.
[I have something to present to the king.]
Pointing to Dein's head beside its own, it seemed to ask if it could offer this to the king before their duel.
Kriel nodded. The dullahan approached slowly, knelt, placed its helmet containing its head at his feet, and lifted Dein's head with both hands.
[I have reclaimed the false flesh of this dishonorable one.]
『Indeed. The discordant soul I sensed in this land long ago.』
'Long ago?' Kriel recalled his previous encounter with the Wraith King. That's when Count Ket had suddenly fallen into a coma, and the Wild Hunt's approach had been detected. Arunback had many chassis. It meant another 'chassis' had infiltrated the county around then to activate its soul dormant in the artificial mana circuits within Count Ket. Dein and Nayd were likely possessed around the same time.
Kriel paid close attention to every word the Wraith King uttered.
『The soul dwelling in this hunk of metal unearthed my vow buried in time today, but it was not the one who summoned me before. Did one with corrupt will impart the ancient memories?』
The dullahan set the head down at the Wraith King's feet and withdrew. In the next moment, Dein's head sank into the white flowers, vanishing from sight. As if to avoid interrupting the Wraith King and Kriel's meeting, the dullahan retreated farther away.
Now it was just the two of them again. Only then did the Wraith King turn his head toward Kriel. He sensed the divine power emanating from the armor.
『The youngest daughter of the Pantheon. The crow goddess who opposes unjust death has chosen you.』
'A wise choice.' The Wraith King's faint murmur reached Kriel's ears. His gaze then fell on the horn dagger.
『…A familiar soul in an unfamiliar form. Do you remember me?』
[Huh?]
Orishin was taken aback. Did that king recognize him?
[Did he come near our mountains a few times?]
『When you bore the full form of the unicorn, I too met you in this guise.』
The Wraith King turned from the horn dagger back to Kriel. He stood in silent readiness, gripping his greatsword tightly.
『I have trespassed against you in three ways. First, I underestimated your will. Second, I promised non-aggression yet failed to uphold it.』
"Arunback… That hunk of metal's rampage violated the non-aggression pact?"
Wasn't the Wraith King's promised non-aggression between the Wild Hunt and Ket County? In response to Kriel's question, the Wraith King explained.
『My legions sensed the discordant soul yet did not stir, and that dishonorable one threatened the city, forcing you to abandon our duel and rush off. That was the fruit of my negligence, proof of my sloth.』
Ah. So the non-aggression was a promise to ensure their duel proceeded without interference. Since Arunback had disrupted it, the king saw it as his own fault.
One question resolved, but another bloomed in Kriel's mind.
'This is odd. Of the three Wild Hunt leaders, he's the one who listens to reason, but even more so than last time…'
Almost knightly.
"Then, the final rudeness?"
『Arriving midway through the rite with sword at hip and muddy boots.』
The Wraith King slowly drew his sword. No battle intent leaked from the motion, so Kriel turned toward where the blade pointed. There sat an old chest, worn yet still exuding luxury.
『This is our betrothal gift, offered in union of life and life.』
The Wraith King's legions approached, lifting the palanquin bearing the chest.
『One day, you and I shall clash again, and one shall end the other's fate.』
『But not today.』
『Today marks overcoming the darkest night with fitting joy. Greet the dawn with your companion.』
The dullahan recalled the man who had single-handedly blocked their advance before the king. A knight who quenched the resentment layered like strata within the Wild Hunt, freeing them from fate. Each clash with the king cleared his mind, surfacing oaths and vows long forgotten from the depths of distant memory.
How could he not feel shame at having forgotten his mission? Not for martial fame, nor for glory. He respected the one who barred their path out of a knight's rights and duties—the life he once dreamed of and lived, lost in the far distant past.
When the king said, 'That knight of old is not you,' his head within the helm closed its eyes. When the king apologized for his own rudeness, disloyal joy stirred within.
That knight alone could grant respite to the Wild Hunt legions who forgot their mission—and to the king who bore it alone.
He recalled the demon's curse: Your wandering shall never end. You shall choose neither Tirnanog nor the Abyss. Even the last to remember you shall forget amid your decayed fate, and suffering shall persist. This is decreed in the Abyss's name; nothing of Tirnanog can break this covenant.
The old knight, following Kriel while bearing the betrothal gift, thought: The Dark Knight unbound to the Abyss could shatter the covenant. A fate like ours, belonging to neither Tirnanog nor the Abyss. You shall end the Wild Hunt's endless night and grant us rest—but who shall grant you rest?