The Feast of Blood (2)
Deep within the column of mercenaries marching south toward the Talaran Mountains, Ellie sat perched atop a supply wagon, chattering away with the women around her without pause, doing her best to stave off the tedium of the long journey.
"So where are you two settling down after the wedding?"
"Somewhere in Serion, probably. I thought about the outskirts of the Imperial Capital at first, but Kallen said it wouldn't be easy to put down roots there."
Kallen, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation under the pretense of keeping watch on their surroundings, flinched despite himself.
It was a roundabout excuse born of some awkward personal history, and Ellie, bless her heart, had taken his word at face value. Fortunately, she wasn't even glancing his way, still caught up in her lively banter with the others.
"You know, the way the captain talks, Caliburn might not be a bad option either. I was thinking of looking into it when we pass through."
"You think it's safe, though? I heard the Caliburn Guard hates mages."
"They say the moment you cross paths with one, your whole day goes sour. Your magic fizzles out in the strangest places, your incantations come out all garbled. Supposedly they cast sneaky little curses from behind your back…"
"That's all nonsense the Magic Tower kids love to spread. I've seen them up close before — they're just ordinary guards…"
After a long stretch of gossip, the women let out a collective sigh, envy written all over their faces.
"Must be nice."
"The two youngest ones getting married first of all of us…"
"When we come visit, you'd better lend Kallen out. Don't hoard him all to yourself."
"Not a chance in hell, so dream on."
Ellie tossed out the teasing joke with uncharacteristically good humor, none of her usual profanity in sight. In her hair, the silver pin Kallen had given her glinted in the sunlight, announcing its presence with quiet pride. And the sight of Ellie's face — brimming with a victor's easy confidence — only deepened her comrades' envy.
"Kallen is mine. I'm not lending him out to anyone."
"…"
At that resolute declaration, a small smile had somehow found its way to Kallen's lips.
After the long road behind them, they were finally almost there. His plan was simple: paint over the stale past with an ordinary, peaceful daily life beside Ellie. Walk off to work in the morning with a send-off, come home before it grew late in the evening to share a meal, talk for a while afterward, offer a prayer of thanks, and fall asleep together. Bury the old wounds deep, deep down, until not so much as a small stain remained visible.
"How many kids are you planning to have?"
"Hmm… three, to start…?"
The moment Ellie gave her answer, a cheer erupted from the back of the column. Kallen managed a wry smile and shook his head.
"Guess I'll have to make some serious money…"
It wasn't that he wanted for much — but he certainly couldn't let Ellie and the children they'd someday have suffer for it, either. Kallen pressed his tingling nose, kicked off into a trot, and made his way to the front of the column. Before long, a flash of vivid azure hair began to shimmer in the distance.
Hearing his approach, Lenart glanced back and offered him an easy wave. When they drew their horses side by side and matched pace, she pulled her grin wide and jabbed him in the ribs.
"So how does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"Don't play dumb. Getting married. How's it feel? Goodness, and to think that little runt of yours grew up so tall…"
"I told you to stop treating me like a kid. How old do you think I am now?"
Kallen bristled, but Lenart simply burst out laughing. After glaring at her for a moment, he let out a long sigh — then, as if nothing had happened, offered his thanks in a quiet voice.
"Thank you, Lena."
"Oh, shut it. Do you have any idea how much of a headache the two of you are giving me right now?"
Lenart grumbled for no particular reason and shot him a sideways glance, as if he were the annoying one. "First I have to rethink the entire combat rotation… recruit new members… ugh, honestly…"
The plan was for Kallen and Ellie to leave mercenary life behind after their vows and settle in one place. For starters, they meant to take over as caretakers of one of the Lenart Mercenary Corps' seasonal garrisons — but with the two of them gone at once, the company would inevitably suffer a drop in fighting strength. Kallen now outmatched Lenart herself in skill, and Ellie's magic was an invaluable resource that went without saying.
Yet for all her grumbling just now, Lenart had long since made up her mind to let them go freely.
"You'd better take responsibility if this company goes under, you hear? Hmm?"
"Then come live at our place."
"Don't say things you don't mean. Do that, and your new bride will try to kill me."
"Then I'll protect you. Come on, you think I'd fail you for something that small?"
Kallen's bright laughter was steeped in gratitude and affection born of genuine feeling. A flicker of wistfulness crossed Lenart's face, and somehow a flush of heat rose in her cheeks. She whipped her head away and spoke toward the distant mountains, her words stumbling.
"A-A man about to be married has no business smiling at just anyone like that. It's unseemly."
"But you're not just anyone, Lena."
"Shut up. You'd better watch yourself from now on, you hear? Keep that up and I really will storm into your room one night and…"
"Storm in and… what?"
"Wh…"
Faced with Kallen tilting his head in perfect, guileless innocence, Lenart found herself utterly at a loss for words.
"That's… ugh, forget it."
"Why? What were you going to say?"
"I-I said forget it! Just keep a good watch. I'm riding ahead to scout."
"Lena? Wait—"
Lenart chewed on something muttering under her breath, then hastily brushed it off and, for no reason anyone could name, spurred her horse into a gallop. Kallen could only stare blankly after her retreating back, eyes wide — and then he broke into an involuntary snort of laughter.
After crossing mountain after mountain, river after river, a broad plain at last spread itself before the marching mercenaries. Across the dark, fertile soil hemming the winding river, orchards and wheat fields stretched on without end. At so peaceful a scene — bearing not the slightest trace of war's ravages — the members couldn't stop themselves from gasping in admiration.
"Wow… just look at this view…"
"What was this territory called again?"
"Monastin."
Walking ahead, Lenart bit into an apple plucked from a roadside tree as she answered Kallen's question. "One of the most fertile territories in the north for grain and fruit. Food and supplies of every kind in abundance, the market by the main keep always crawling with people. A good place to live."
Their journey out of the north was already racing toward its end. They would pass through the territory of Monastin, go a little farther south, and reach the very foothills of the Talaran Mountains — the company's final destination.
"The lord here is an old acquaintance of mine. A baron named Alanda — easygoing old man, well loved by his people. He owes me a favor or two, since I saved his life once."
Lenart continued, humming a tuneless melody under her breath. Thanks to her quick decision to march south at speed, the party had reached this point without encountering a single danger. Even the veteran members, who had never once let their guard down, were now thoroughly relaxed, soaking in Monastin's picture-perfect scenery.
"I already sent word ahead to the Baron. By now, they'll be hard at work preparing a grand feast for us."
At Lenart's words, a raucous cheer erupted through the company at once. Lenart nodded along in response and flashed a wide grin. "You've all worked hard, every one of you. Today we eat, we drink, and we make merry. And for once, we'll all take a proper bath in hot water."
Because they had slowed their pace like travelers off on a picnic, singing as they went, it was early evening by the time the company finally arrived at Monastin's main keep. The castle gates stood flung wide open, as if to welcome them. Passing through the beast-mouthed passage, they emerged onto the broad avenue leading into Monastin Castle.
But at the sight before them, Kallen tilted his head in puzzlement.
"Huh?"
Contrary to Lenart's tales of ever-crowded streets, the keep at twilight held nothing but a dreadful, oppressive silence. No guards, no townsfolk, no lord who should have been there to greet them. On the streets below the castle, the only people to be seen were the mercenaries themselves.
"What in the…?"
It was as though every last soul had vanished to somewhere, all in the span of a heartbeat. Stranger still, smoke still rose from the chimneys, and the soup bowls laid out on the roadside stalls were still warm.
The tension had crept fully onto even Lenart's face — the same Lenart who, until moments ago, had been trading silly jokes about bathing in beer.
"…Could this be some kind of surprise welcome?"
"Old Alanda's easygoing, sure, but he's not the type to throw surprise welcomes."
At Kallen's words, offered as if to shake off the creeping dread, she only shook her head at once, her expression hard as stone. "If anything, I'd half expect him to come marching out here reciting some long-winded speech of welcome… but this? This is genuinely wrong."
"…"
"Might be better to take a moment and read the situation. Everyone, hold posi—"
Lenart's hand had already closed around her sword's hilt as she turned to address the company —
— when rapid footsteps came pounding up, and one of the scouts who'd ranged ahead came sprinting back, gasping for breath as she shouted.
"Le-Lenart…! Come look at this, quick!"
"Sara? What is it?"
"I-I can't explain it… th-this is…"
Sara — a veteran who had weathered every kind of battlefield imaginable — was white as a corpse. Trembling violently, she shook her head alone in desperate refusal, then seized Lenart's arm in a fierce grip and pulled.
"Ju-just hurry…!"
Urged on like that, the rest of the company found themselves chasing after her almost against their will. The deeper they ran toward the inner keep, the stronger grew a strange smell, like fish-blood and charred things mingled together. Kallen's brow knotted of its own accord, and his unease swelled with every step.
Their destination at last was the plaza of Monastin, where the lord's manor stood. And there, spread out before them, lay a scene of carnage beyond all words.
"…Holy hell."
Ellie, pressed close at Kallen's side, swore without meaning to.
At the center of the broad plaza, the corpses of the territory's people lay stacked layer upon layer, heaped into a high mound. The blood flowing from it had pooled into large dark lakes across the ground here and there, until the surroundings were nearly impossible to walk through without gagging. In that instant, every member of the company understood why not a single living person had been seen in the keep.
"Wh-what is this…"
The members were every bit as stunned. The mound of bodies cast its long shadow high against the lord's manor. And along the wall above it, several corpses hung by ropes knotted around their necks, swaying this way and that in the wind.
Gazing past them, Kallen caught sight of an old man's body, scorched black by fire, and swallowed hard, his tongue gone dry. That they were looking at Baron Alanda — the man Lenart had spoken of — and his household needed no explanation at all.
"What on earth happened here…huh?"
Even amid the horror, Lenart kept her composure, scanning their surroundings — until her gaze suddenly locked onto the ground below. Across the plaza's stone floor, faintly glowing geometric lines were etched in every direction. They linked to one another like a maze even within the pools of blood, slowly assembling themselves into some kind of form.
"Oh no…!"
And at last, when the enormous magic circle spanning the entire floor of the plaza came into view, Lenart's face drained into pure shock.
"It's a trap!! Everyone, combat formation, NOW—!"
"Too late for that."
Lenart had been about to whip her head around to warn the others — when a calm voice, from out of nowhere, scattered her desperate cry with ease. Every eye in the company snapped at once toward the direction the sound had come from.
There, at the head of the road leading into the plaza, stood a woman in white, dagger in hand, barefoot. Save for the fact that her face looked terribly exhausted, she might have seemed an ordinary person at a glance. But the moment Lenart felt her presence, her sword was already drawn and her stance set for battle. Gritting her teeth, she snarled at the woman.
"A witch…! A filthy whore of the demons dares…!"
Lenart's surging killing intent was sharp enough to sting the very skin of Kallen beside her — yet the woman facing them did not so much as flinch. Only then did Kallen understand: whatever stood before them, it was no ordinary foe. The woman gazed at them, at the whole company trapped in the plaza like fish in a basket trap, and spoke in a flat, even voice.
"No one leaves this place alive today."