I. Where the Frost Lingers (7)
I. Where the Frost Lingers (7)
The life of a mercenary was a rough one.
A hard life for a man who could never set aside his weapon.
Surviving at all—even maimed—made a man one of the lucky ones. Those who survived with all four limbs intact and accumulated experience became veteran mercenaries.
The mercenaries who had followed Hans were seasoned men of that sort.
Though they didn't have metal armor like a successful mercenary company, every man at least wore a gambeson.
A gambeson stopped blades effectively and offered some protection against arrows.
Roughly half the men also carried shields, and the company led by Hans and Gunther was well regarded in the area.
The names Hans and Gunther alone carried considerable weight.
Yet hardened as they were, they now stood helpless before what was happening.
"If no one answers this time either, I'll break the limbs of the next man I catch."
The voice resembled the threatening growl of a savage beast.
Then the stench of urine began spreading from somewhere.
Every warning bell in the mercenaries' minds screamed at once, culminating in the horrific sight of Hans lying unconscious before them.
If they did nothing, they would be next.
But fighting back might get them killed as well.
Drawing on years of experience, the mercenaries rapidly weighed their options and reached a conclusion.
If standing still meant certain doom, then it was better to at least put up a fight!
"Shit...! Kill him!"
Four mercenaries moved at once.
Their clubs, falchions, and crude short spears struck at the giant man from different directions.
Yet the man remained motionless, simply watching.
The mercenaries' faces twisted grotesquely as they swung their weapons.
What was he doing?
Why wasn't he moving?
Those thoughts lasted only an instant.
A series of sickening crunches rang out, and their vision went black.
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"Uuurgh..."
"Hrrgh..."
"..."
Keldric looked down at the five unconscious mercenaries with a sour expression.
Except for the first man, whose wrist had shattered before a blow to the face knocked him unconscious, the other four had limbs bent in different directions.
Their twisted limbs made them resemble the Buddhist swastika symbol (卍), and naturally, Keldric was responsible.
With his bare hands, no less.
Granted, he had caught them off guard, but subduing five able-bodied men armed with weapons easily capable of killing someone—without a weapon of his own—was a remarkable feat.
The realization encouraged Keldric, but he quickly sobered.
'I hadn't meant to go that far.'
Things had gone badly awry.
Keldric's original plan had been to leave at least one of the five conscious for a brief interrogation.
Keldric looked over the five mercenaries sprawled across the ground once more.
'Maybe I could wake one up.'
The thought crossed his mind, but he soon shook his head.
Anyone could see that none of them would regain consciousness for some time.
Keldric tapped the scabbard at his hip.
The sword slumbering peacefully inside the scabbard rattled as if throwing a tantrum, demanding to know why he had not drawn it.
But a sword had been useless in such close quarters.
He had taken the sword for situations like this, but the mercenaries had been too close and their weapons were already in motion.
Keldric's rough hand gently stroked the sword's pommel as if soothing it.
Yet he kept thinking.
'They were fairly well equipped.'
The five mercenaries wore a mismatched assortment of gear, but each had enough protection to look after himself.
Four wore thick gambesons; the scarred man knocked out first wore leather armor.
Each at least wore something capable of stopping a blade. By mercenary standards, their equipment was respectable.
Keldric hadn't seen equipment this good anywhere in the village recently.
No. On second thought, he had—once.
Keldric recalled Joseph as he had seen him a few days earlier.
Joseph's mule and three or four carts, as usual—and the ten stocky mercenaries standing behind them.
Two of those mercenaries had worn leather armor, and the armor on the first man Keldric had struck was identical to theirs.
Keldric clicked his tongue. These had to be mercenaries hired by Joseph.
If so, why had they attacked the manor in the middle of the night?
Simply to steal?
'Unlikely.'
Keldric did not think so.
He recalled Mariam's account of Joseph secretly meeting with Fritz.
And these mercenaries had been hired by Joseph.
They were not mere rabble, but ten reasonably well-equipped mercenaries.
Hiring them must have cost a considerable sum. But the money would not have come from Joseph's own pocket.
The money had likely come from his second brother, Fritz.
Then what was he to do?
'At the very least, I couldn't stand by and do nothing.'
At last, the pieces began to fit together.
Now that he knew what to do, he had to move.
Keldric tossed the five still-unconscious mercenaries into a corner of the front yard, then picked up one of their clubs.
He meant to give it to either Malcolm or Mariam.
He couldn't take any of the shields. His kicks and hammering fists had split every one of them in two.
Having gathered what he could of the unconscious mercenaries' belongings, Keldric's massive frame melted into the darkness.
First, he would head to the armory.
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The armory was not far from the front yard.
Night had already fallen, but Keldric's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he slowly approached the armory's faint silhouette.
Malcolm, who was supposed to be waiting for Keldric outside, was nowhere to be seen.
Snow was beginning to collect on the old chair in front of the armory.
Keldric held out a hand. Cold snowflakes touched his palm and melted without a trace.
Only then did he realize that it had been snowing for some time.
"Malcolm. Are you in there?"
Keldric whispered cautiously. The reply came quicker than he expected.
- M-Master Keldric?
Keldric moved toward the source of Malcolm's trembling voice.
- Master Keldric! A-are you there?!
Malcolm's voice came from behind the tightly shut armory door. He seemed to have locked himself inside for safety.
"Yes, it's me. Could you open the door?"
Malcolm asked him to wait a moment. Keldric waited in silence.
The old lock clattered, and the armory door slowly opened.
"Malcolm."
"Oh, thank heavens, Master Keldric...! I'm so relieved you're unharmed!"
Malcolm cautiously poked his head out from the armory, then spotted Keldric and clung to his trouser leg in relief.
Whether or not he noticed Keldric's discomfort, Malcolm was drenched in cold sweat and trembling like an aspen leaf.
"I was trying to step inside the armory for a bit because it was too cold, when suddenly, out of nowhere, these strange bastards showed up!"
"...Ah, I see."
In that case, it was Keldric's fault after all.
Had Keldric returned the sword sooner, Malcolm would not have been left outside shivering so late at night.
"A-anyway, then those bastards came to the armory and started pounding on the door! I locked it at once and barricaded myself inside!"
"Yes, you did well."
"I heard them talking, too! They said they'd go around the manor to enter through the kitchen's back door!"
"...The kitchen's back door?"
"Yes!"
He knew a remarkable amount of detail for something he had merely overheard.
That was no good news for Keldric. His expression gradually darkened.
Seeing Keldric's face, Malcolm swallowed and asked.
"W-why, what's the matter? Is there a problem...?"
"First, those men are mercenaries. I can't be certain, but Joseph probably hired them."
"Joseph, you say?"
Keldric briefly explained what had happened.
Malcolm looked bewildered at first, but his face twisted as the explanation went on.
"That fucking bastard! You're saying that crude, greedy merchant betrayed House Bellaf?"
"That's right. So, is Joseph staying at the manor?"
"I only overheard it in passing, but I think he's staying in a guest room."
"I see... Malcolm."
Abruptly, Keldric placed a hand firmly on Malcolm's shoulder.
"Y-yes?"
"It seems one of the manor servants may be working for Joseph."
"What do you mean—"
"Joseph doesn't even know where the kitchen's back door is. Someone who did must have shown the mercenaries the way."
In truth, no such traitor existed. If the mercenaries had been given that information, Fritz would have been the one to give it to them.
Keldric was testing Malcolm.
The claim was meant to reveal whether Malcolm had truly overheard the mercenaries or was quietly passing along information he already knew.
"Ah... aah! That must be the case!"
Malcolm agreed, still looking utterly clueless.
Malcolm was innocent. Keldric nodded with a slightly relieved expression.
"Right. So..."
Without further preamble, Keldric held something out to Malcolm. A bewildered Malcolm accepted it.
"Master Keldric, this is...?"
It was a sturdy wooden club.
Malcolm couldn't have known it, but Keldric had picked the club up while beating the mercenaries unconscious moments earlier.
"Until I return, lock yourself inside the armory. Even if someone else comes, do not open the door unless you have no choice."
"Of course! I'll remember!"
"If anyone forces their way in... hit them in the head with that. It should at least knock them out."
The armory contained plenty of weapons, but whether Malcolm could use them properly was another matter.
Although Malcolm was technically one of the fief's soldiers, the only weapon he could properly handle was a spear.
He could swing a sword, but if the mercenaries broke in, he would be fighting several men at once.
In such a fight, it was best to have as many usable weapons within reach as possible.
Keldric pointed toward one corner of the armory.
"You can use the spear over there. Keep the club as your backup."
"Don't worry! If anyone tries to squeeze through, I'll let them have it...!"
"Right. I'm counting on you."
Unlike with Mariam, this time he had no choice but to trust him.
'Was Mariam safe? The servants' quarters were attached behind the kitchen.'
Keldric was about to leave the armory when he suddenly stopped dead.
Along with the many weapons, the armory also held the armor Sir Volfen had left for Keldric.
"Look here, Malcolm."
"Yes, Master Keldric."
"I'd like to put on my armor. Can you help me?"
Keldric pointed toward one corner of the cramped armory.
A suit of armor stood there.
A navy-blue surcoat, a large shirt of chain mail, a coat of hardened leather plates joined like lamellar armor, and accessories including gauntlets.
The most conspicuous piece was a helmet shaped like a great metal can.
Known as a great helm, it certainly drew the eye.
Keldric strode straight over to it, and Malcolm swiftly followed close behind.
"I shall assist you!"
"Good. I need to put it on as quickly as possible."
Fortunately, it was chain mail. Plate armor would have taken far longer to put on.
A short while later, a single huge man emerged from the armory, clad in proper armor and a surcoat.
'Time to go.'
Keldric took a torch from Malcolm, made sure the armory door was firmly locked, and set off.
His destination was the kitchen's back door.