The God of Love
Elbridge agreed with Bireon’s point that the number of seats in the assembly did not reflect a Holy Knight’s individual ability.
He had seen far too many mediocre Holy Knights swagger around simply because they belonged to one of the major orders.
Yet the existence of those who dragged the average down inevitably meant there were those who raised it.
The Holy Knights once called Paladins were prime examples.
Those above mid-tier, or those who had distinguished themselves even within the great combat orders.
Thud.
When Elbridge’s scabbard slammed into the man’s lower abdomen, the Holy Knight from the Silver Harpoon Apostles vomited everything in his stomach.
“Urrgh, cough, cough.”
That made four.
Elbridge looked around and asked calmly, “Anyone else want to try?”
Many twitched with burning competitive spirit, but none stepped forward.
Bireon, the leader of the Silver Harpoon Apostles, had already warned them not to challenge someone beyond their ability.
It’s strange they still want to step up after watching this beating. If these were Eastern Holy Knights, they would have held back for the sake of face.
It was surely because the temperaments of Easterners and Southerners differed.
From what Elbridge had observed so far, Southerners were, on average, far more aggressive than their Eastern counterparts.
Bireon clapped his hands with a satisfied expression.
“Good. That should be qualification enough. I’ll guide you to your lodgings.”
The lined-up Holy Knights—apparently called Apostles in the Silver Harpoon Apostles—dispersed. Bireon personally led Elbridge’s group.
Elbridge secretly hoped they would stay in one of the treehouses, but unfortunately Bireon’s steps led toward an area with fewer trees.
Elbridge studied Bireon’s appearance carefully.
He was more than a head taller than Elbridge, an unusually large man. Yet despite his height, Bireon did not look slow at all. It was because of muscles that looked springy at a glance.
Rombel asked, “Holy Knight… or should I say Apostle? Anyway, those guys must have realized they’re no match for Elbridge. Why did you set up the fights?”
Rombel had not missed how Bireon’s gaze lingered especially long on him and Elbridge before the sparring began. It meant he had roughly gauged the party’s strength.
Just as Bireon had assessed them, Elbridge and Rombel had also concluded that Bireon was no ordinary fighter. He carried the unmistakable aura of a true expert.
Elbridge thought Bireon resembled the Holy Knights of the past more than the current generation who had forgotten how to fight. Among them, he seemed close to Paladin level.
Bireon answered Rombel’s question.
“People learn more from defeat than victory. The problem is the high chance of dying while learning…”
“That’s true.”
“You can show my men a new way to fight, defeat them, and still not take their lives. Is there any reason to miss such an opportunity?”
It meant he had deliberately arranged the fights to temper his subordinates.
But to Elbridge, something about Bireon’s words felt off.
“What if we got offended and left?”
“That won’t happen.”
“No. We could have if we wanted.”
“You gathered the Holy Knights and priests of the Flowing Water Order in this castle with the intention of joining the Black Handaxe Brotherhood. There’s no way you’d leave quietly.”
Bireon had struck the exact mark so suddenly that Elbridge’s group was momentarily speechless.
By then Bireon had turned around, smiling.
Seeing that smile, Elbridge realized Bireon had been subtly testing them. And now his conjecture had become certainty.
There was no point denying it here. Elbridge asked back, “How did you know?”
“Everyone knows the Flowing Water Order has frequent dealings with the Black Handaxe Brotherhood. There’s no other reason you would come to us instead of joining them.”
Elbridge slowly ran his fingers along the hilt of his sword as he thought.
Should I cut him down here? Could I kill Bireon cleanly before the Silver Harpoon Apostles arrive? If I kill him, can I handle the aftermath?
Before Elbridge could decide, Bireon spoke.
“I have no intention of telling the others. Use me however you want until you’re done.”
“Use you?”
“Yes. That’s why you came, isn’t it?”
Even now, Elbridge could not fully read Bireon’s intentions.
“Why take on the risk?”
“The current situation in the South… if you look at the big picture, it’s a zero-sum game. With only the forces in this castle, we can’t seize both dominance and the Flowing Water Order. But with you, a possibility emerges. Before the owner is decided, let’s raise the stakes a little.”
Bireon wanted Elbridge’s group to gather as many Holy Knights and priests of the Flowing Water Order as possible.
Whether those believers would go to the Black Handaxe Brotherhood as originally planned or remain with Bireon and the Silver Harpoon Apostles was a matter for later.
“You’re simply saying we should postpone the bloodshed?”
“It might turn out that way. But in the end, there’s a high chance the Flowing Water Order will stay with us. For all our looks, our order is quite capable. More reliable than the Black Handaxe Brotherhood. Enough to become a new trading partner.”
Elbridge was inwardly impressed.
Bireon possessed not only martial prowess and judgment, but also the insight to recognize when to throw a bold move.
Would the Flowing Water Order remain at Bireon’s side as he predicted?
Or would they end up watching for a chance to stab each other in the back?
That much was impossible to know. But for now, their interests aligned.
Cooperate with the Silver Harpoon Apostles and rescue as many people from the Flowing Water Order as possible.
“We’ll cooperate for now… but I don’t want to kill people from other orders.”
Bireon grinned.
“That’s fine. I have no intention of going to all-out war either. A victory gained by losing one’s forces has no value.”
Bireon’s steps stopped. Before the party stood a modest single-story house.
In a city short on space, being assigned an independent residence where one did not have to rub shoulders with others was quite the privilege.
After Bireon left, Rombel entered the house and said, “Elbridge. I thought after you beat those four, Bireon would step up himself. But he didn’t.”
“He didn’t.”
“Yet his men didn’t seem disappointed by that at all.”
There were only two possibilities.
Either the Silver Harpoon Apostles did not expect Bireon to win, or they had absolute faith in his skill.
And from what Elbridge and Rombel saw, the people’s reaction leaned heavily toward the latter.
Elbridge spoke with genuine feeling.
“If the chance comes, I’d like to fight him.”
Bireon came to request their help much sooner than expected.
It was the second day since Elbridge’s party had arrived at the castle.
“We move tonight. Get ready.”
“Already?”
“Tonight, the Winding Sword Order will strike the Black Handaxe Brotherhood. We’ll slip into the emptied castle, rescue only the people of the Flowing Water Order, and get out.”
“So only a small team is moving.”
“Correct. Me, one of my men, you, and that dwarf…”
Bireon looked at Marcus with a subtle expression.
He still could not accurately gauge Marcus’s skill level.
Elbridge offered advice. “If you’re unsure, bring him. At the very least, he won’t hold us back.”
“Understood. Then five in total. Keep your gear to a minimum. We’ll avoid big fights and move as stealthily as possible.”
Marcus’s expression was complicated.
Reluctance at being dragged somewhere he didn’t want to go mingled with a strange sense of pride at having earned even a little recognition from Elbridge and Bireon.
A short while later, the five slipped out of the castle under cover of darkness. Unlike usual, even Elbridge wore light clothes without armor.
The Great Forest of the South was far noisier at night than during the day.
Chirp, chirrr—
Bird calls, insect noises, the sound of night wind rustling leaves. All of it echoed far through the night air.
Occasionally something large moved in the forest, making its presence known.
Rustle.
“W-what is that?”
Whatever had moved in the darkness was as big as a large cart or a small carriage.
When Marcus drew his sword in alarm, one of Bireon’s men answered.
“Do not attack. It is a Land Boar.”
“A Land Boar?”
“The most common demonic beast in the South. If there are ten demonic beasts in the South, eight of them are Land Boars, or so they say.”
Marcus asked, puzzled, “One species can be that numerous?”
“Yes. Those things have excellent reproductive power. They give birth to six or seven piglets at a time.”
This was information that overturned not only Marcus’s common sense but Elbridge’s and Rombel’s as well.
“Wait. Demonic beasts reproduce?”
“Yes. We have no way of knowing the exact origin, but we believe they are a hybrid species created when demonic beasts mated with ordinary wild boars. In a sense, they are only half demonic beasts.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing…”
“Their habits are somewhere between demonic beasts and wild animals. Unlike demonic beasts that charge at any human they see, Land Boars rarely attack people first. Though their size is incomparably larger than ordinary boars…”
“Hm. So they’re big but not much of a threat?”
Bireon laughed at that.
“You shouldn’t underestimate them. They aren’t usually threatening, but the demonic beast that has killed the most Southerners is the Land Boar.”
“Didn’t you just say they don’t attack people?”
“Very rarely, they form enormous herds and sweep away everything in their path. Southerners call that a Stampede.”
A Stampede.
Marcus gauged the size of the faintly visible Land Boar in the darkness and said, “A herd… maybe thirty or forty?”
“No. At minimum several thousand to tens of thousands.”
Unsure whether Bireon was joking, Marcus studied his expression in the dark.
Bireon laughed within the shadows. Even in the murky night, his white teeth stood out clearly.
“I told you. The most common demonic beast in the South is the Land Boar, and the one that has killed the most people is also the Land Boar.”
“It’s hard to imagine…”
“You see their size, don’t you? When tens of thousands of Land Boars go mad and start running, nothing remains—city walls or anything else. The reason the South doesn’t have large cities like other regions is because of those Land Boars. Even if you build a huge city, a Stampede would wipe it out instantly.”
So the reason the cities were small despite the dense forest was the Land Boars.
Marcus looked visibly tense even in the darkness.
“Does this… Stampede happen often?”
“No. The last time was around when I had my coming-of-age ceremony—one city disappeared. The city walls aren’t far from here. Want to see them?”
“…No. I’m good.”
Contrary to his appearance, Bireon had a talent for conversation. He walked along telling the group all sorts of stories.
The tale of how it took him a whole month to find the edge of the Great Forest, stories of strange demonic beasts he had seen, the funny or bizarre customs of other orders, complaints about the Black Handaxe Brotherhood, and just how terrible the Flowing Water Order’s obsession with money was…
Some people could tell the same stories everyone else did, yet make them feel far more vivid and entertaining.
To Elbridge, Bireon was exactly that kind of person.
If he had been born in the East instead of the South, he might have become a silver-tongued mercenary…
Marcus, who was similarly gifted with words, returned the favor by sharing stories of his mercenary days in the East.
When two good storytellers were present, the atmosphere could not possibly grow heavy.
The five walked for a long time, chatting as casually as if they were on a picnic, until Bireon suddenly raised his hand and halted the group.
“Good. You can tell me the rest of the stories on the way back.”
Before them stood a castle slightly smaller than the one belonging to the Silver Harpoon Apostles.
So this is the stronghold of the Winding Sword Order.
The height of the castle walls was roughly five or six times that of an average adult male.
Bireon said, “Hey. You said you really don’t like killing people, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Same here. Let’s handle this with the absolute minimum and slip out quietly.”
Bireon set his harpoon and curved sword on the ground. He was worried about moonlight reflecting off the blades.
Elbridge asked, “Will you be all right without weapons?”
“Of course. Truth is, bare-handed fighting is my specialty. I’m actually not very confident with weapon techniques.”
Night clouds drifting quickly on the wind covered the pale yellow crescent moon.
Bireon bounced lightly in place two or three times with springy movements, then kicked off the ground and sprinted forward.
Tap—
In the blink of an eye Bireon reached the castle wall and climbed it like an animal.
Using only his hands and feet, he moved far faster than someone climbing a ladder.
Elbridge was inwardly impressed.
As fast as a squirrel running up a tree.
Bireon scaled the wall in only a few breaths.
The clouds still hid the moon. Like a ghost, Bireon moved silently and snapped the necks of the two guards dozing on the wall.
Rombel watched and let out a low whistle of admiration.
“That guy’s movements are no joke. Even in the old days, someone like him was rare.”
“So his confidence isn’t baseless.”
A rope was tossed down from the wall. The remaining four approached, climbed the rope, and scaled the wall.
Once on top, Bireon grinned.
“Right. Let’s finish this as quietly and quickly as possible and get out.”
Bireon, his subordinate, Elbridge, and Rombel jumped down inside the wall.
Four people had leaped from a great height, yet not a single footstep echoed.
The atmosphere somehow made it feel like he should jump too. When Marcus flinched, the God of the Fox Rain sent an oracle.
Marcus. Stop acting like a dog and just use the stairs.
“Understood.”
The devout believer Marcus faithfully obeyed the oracle.