Chapter 101: Opening (3)
Chapter 101: Opening (3)
The party of knights gazing upon the Wandering Castle numbered three in total. Two of them gave up on entering and departed for other destinations.
But the party led by Sir Evans, the knight who had hunted the dire wolves, remained.
"We're going into that castle."
"Sir Knight!"
"Do you have a better idea? Are you going to settle for a single dire wolf pelt?"
"That's..."
The Mercenary who had been trying to dissuade him out of fear shut his mouth.
The pups in the cage were shivering beneath blankets soaked through with rain.
At this rate, by the time they reached a proper resting place, they would catch cold, and in all likelihood, they would die off.
"Think of each one as worth its weight in gold. Every one that dies is money off your bonus."
The only thing that could always make mercenaries overcome their fear was money.
"There's nothing to fear. I am certain that castle is the Wandering Castle said to have appeared in Bonyard. It is a place where people live, too."
Evans spoke with conviction.
The knights who had given up and left had come up from the countryside, and so were ill-informed.
But Evans and his fellow knights came from influential families in the region. Through various channels, they had access to high-level information.
"The man standing on the balcony is likely Sir Eugene."
"It was too far to confirm his face, but a man of that build and presence is not a common thing."
The knights agreed. Having fought on the same side in the tournament as members of the Clear Current Faction, they could not forget that overwhelming presence.
The nobles who held clout in southern Gord had also grasped that Eugene had become the master of the Wandering Castle.
"The All-Conquering Knight of Bonyard!"
"The fortress-shatterer!"
"I heard he cut down the Imperial Guard knights of the Roman Emperor with a single stroke each."
The mercenaries each chimed in with rumors they had heard from others in the trade.
"Did we not fight as comrades on the same side at the tournament?"
"The honorable Sir Eugene will surely extend us hospitality."
'You were complete strangers, and it wasn't even a real battle. What "bond"?'
The mercenaries cursed inwardly. Knights really did think in a way completely different from normal people.
"Now, no more nonsense about vengeful spirits or whatever. Follow quietly."
"Ah, understood."
When a knight of Evans's standing admonished them with such patience, the Mercenaries had no choice but to obey.
No matter how frightening the superstition, if they kept digging their heels in, they'd soon have to start worrying about a sword at their throats.
SHHHHHHH!
By the time they reached the castle gate, the rain had grown fiercer still.
"Did a hole get bored through the sky?"
"This doesn't look like it will let up for at least a day."
Because of the structure jutting out above the gate, they were able to escape the rain simply by pressing up against it. But they could not simply stand there forever.
Thud. Thud.
Evans drew a steadying breath and knocked twice upon the gate.
BOOOOM!
Then at once, with a ponderous groan, the gate began to move.
Once the gate was fully open, the first things to catch their eyes were the vast hall within and the light from the glass tubes illuminating the entire space.
"Lanterns don't even compare."
"There's no candle burning inside. The light has been trapped. That's magic!"
The torches and candles the mercenaries knew did little more than turn pitch darkness into a brighter shade of darkness.
In this era, true light was a power that only the sun could bestow.
Yet the radiant light cast by the glass tubes mounted high in the hall drove out every last scrap of shadow, leaving none permitted to linger.
"I have seen nothing of the sort even in a ducal house—nay, not even in the royal court."
Evans and the other knights, being from wealthy families, had been invited to numerous banquets. They had even visited Gord's royal castle, but none had ever seen a sight like this.
At that moment, a knight and several dwarf warriors appeared on the far side of the hall, on a level above them.
Gulp.
The party all swallowed hard, their faces taut with tension as they laid hands upon the hilts of their weapons.
For they had discovered the enormous head of a black-horned magical beast mounted in the center of the hall.
It was so lifelike and imposing that for an instant they mistook it for a living monster glaring at them.
"It's a trophy. Everyone, calm yourselves and take your hands off your weapons."
By the time Evans gave the order, the knight who had stopped at the railing above the beast's head was looking down at the guests.
Not a word had yet been spoken, but all of them sensed at once that this knight was the very man who had felled the monster and fashioned it into a trophy.
"I am Eugene Meyer, lord of this castle. What brings you to my castle?"
"I am Sir Evans of the Bellingham family."
Evans stepped forward as their representative.
"While standing at the vanguard of the New Year subjugation under the august command of the esteemed Count Andar, we were met with foul weather and had urgent need of shelter."
Within his brief introduction, Evans had packed as much justification as possible.
He invoked his family's power, the righteous cause of a subjugation carried out in loyalty to Count Andar, and even the honor of having stood at its vanguard—all to make refusal difficult.
Eugene could see through his intentions so clearly that he nearly laughed.
"You and I fought on the same side in the tournament. I had no intention of turning you away once I opened the gate."
"We are grateful."
At Eugene's kindly response, the knights felt a surge of relief.
"Have you eaten?"
"In our haste to come down, we have not yet..."
"I'll have warm food prepared. Please follow the attendants."
The newly arrived servants and slaves greeted the guests. Eugene's gaze shifted toward the iron cages.
"What are those?"
"Dire wolf pups, captured alive during the subjugation."
"Having come through this driving rain, their condition must surely be poor. We have skilled veterinarians within the castle. What would you say to entrusting the beasts to them?"
Evans hesitated. So precious a prize as this made him reluctant to place it in the hands of strangers.
"I shall accept your kindness with gratitude."
The deliberation was a brief one.
The man before him was no nameless knight or mercenary captain. He was the master of this enormous castle, favored by Count Andar, and a knight of tremendous martial might.
The very act of hesitating could constitute a grievous insult.
"Where are your horses?"
"At the castle entrance. We judged it discourteous to ride them in."
"Admirable. I shall have those horses moved to the stables as well. They will be rubbed down and given good feed."
"I will make certain my family and Count Andar hear of your honorable conduct!"
Moved by a hospitality that surpassed their imagination, the knights bowed their heads.
Thanks to all the work they had put into getting the interior in order, they could entertain Evans's party not in the common dining hall but in a small guest chamber suited to a banquet.
"We've been busy getting the interior in order ourselves, so we don't have much prepared. Still, we put our hearts into it, so please enjoy."
Eugene's words were no mere pleasantry. Well-roasted beef, beer, and a little fruit. It was a modest spread in terms of variety.
'Beer, not even wine.'
'This is hardly the hospitality befitting a noble who owns such a staggering castle.'
The two immature knights even entertained such disrespectful thoughts. But everything changed once they started eating.
"...!"
"I-is this truly beef?"
The knights were beside themselves at the meat's melt-in-the-mouth texture and flavor. With every chew, sweetness and rich savor filled their mouths.
"Not bad, is it?"
"That word does it no justice!"
"I've been invited to many banquets, but I've never tasted a delicacy like this. How did you achieve this texture and aroma?"
For a knight, taste in fashion and food was every bit as important as martial prowess.
Eugene smiled softly at the knights, their faces filled with wonder.
"This keep possesses a low-temperature storehouse. The beef has been aged there, and so it will differ from any meat you have encountered before."
In this era, meat was generally cooked the moment the animal was butchered. After that, it had to be salted until the tongue might burn, or else turned into jerky.
There were regions where dry aging was possible, but with the limits of the era's techniques, the process was focused on preservation rather than flavor.
The perfectly wet-aged beef, seasoned with all manner of spices, was practically an out-of-place artifact of flavor in this era.
Gulp, gulp.
The young knight who had been inwardly pining for wine took a draft of the cold beer—and in an instant, drained it halfway.
Refined in Varda's workshop and blended with a special elven additive, the beer was already on another level entirely.
"Are these not dates? I have never seen them undried before."
Only fully dried dates circulated in Gord. Tasting fresh dates for the first time, the knights kept reaching for more of their crisp, refreshing sweetness.
The imposing castle and the monstrous prowess Eugene had displayed in the tournament had kept them stiff with tension, but the atmosphere relaxed in an instant.
Watching the scene, Eugene stroked his chin.
'If I finish getting this place in order and entertain guests properly, I could win over just about anyone.'
If he restored and operated the lavish banquet hall and public baths fit for distinguished guests, filled the storerooms with various foods, and even prepared beautiful dancers, entertainers, professional chefs, and musicians?
It might produce results even hundreds of soldiers could not achieve.
Eugene had no intention of navigating this world by force alone. If necessary, he was more than willing to harness the power of pleasure, just as Panis did.
And depending on how it was used, the Wandering Castle was perfectly suited to pleasure and indulgence as well.
After the meal, the knights were guided to the stables.
It was because their restlessness over the dire wolf pups, a crucial prize of war, had been obvious.
"This is beyond the level of a mere stable now."
Evans reflected that he had been surprised an awful lot today. After one astonishing sight after another, he was almost becoming calm from sheer overload.
Their warhorses were having the time of their lives, as if they were on vacation.
Some ravenously tore into the fodder crops in the central trough. Their innocent eyes curved like crescent moons, apparently delighted by the taste.
Prrr!
Neeeigh!
Some kept scratching their backs and necks against a large fixed brush.
They rubbed their backs and cheeks against various types of brushes — ones laid on the floor, ones standing straight like trees, ones hanging in the air — as if finally venting a long-standing grudge against an itch that had tormented them for ages.
Some raced around with the castle cavalry's horses, making friends. The stable was spacious enough to allow it.
At the sight of dark elf warriors tending to the horses everywhere, the knights' eyes widened.
"The Black Hand Mercenary Company!"
"You have them under your command?"
Their grim reputation for having killed more knights than any other mercenary company was known across the continent.
That was especially true for Gord's knights, whose horsemanship lagged behind that of other nations. The elite mounted archers' hit-and-run tactics were a source of terror.
"They are loyal friends. Having them here in the castle is reassuring."
"You must be joking! Nothing could be further from those people than loyalty!"
Their arrogance was as famous as their skill—if not more so.
They looked down on every other race as inferior and even treated nobles with contempt, making their notoriety all the worse.
But when the tribal warriors spotted Eugene and gave him crisp military salutes, there was no trace of that sense of superiority.
A lord-vassal relationship. Those two words alone explained all that respectful formality.
"Welcome back, my lord. The ones you left with us should be fine."
A dark elf veterinarian showed them the fluffy, clean dire wolf pups.
They no longer trembled and, apparently full from their meal, were nodding off.
"Sir Evans. Are you reassured now?"
"...I sincerely thank you for your hospitality."
Evans and the other knights bowed even more deeply than they had at first.
'When I saw him at the tournament, I merely thought he was a knight of tremendous martial prowess, but this...'
'There was a reason Count Andar and the high nobles treated him with such unusual favor.'
It was because, apart from the excellent hospitality, they realized Eugene was a far more powerful noble than they had imagined.
-Count Andar, isn't this a bit much, even for the champion?
-I shall go to his quarters and protest.
That had been the case even during the long banquet after the tournament. As champion, Eugene was supposed to keep the festivities lively, yet apart from the first few days he had been absent throughout.
But Count Andar soothed the complaining lower-ranking knights without showing the slightest displeasure.
At the time, they assumed the count had let it slide simply because he favored strong warriors, but now they realized that was not the whole reason.
'So he was simply someone who could get away with it.'
The power he commanded.
There had been one more reason—simple, yet absolute.
"After being treated this well, I'd like to repay you somehow."
"What could I ask in return for hosting honorable knights?"
"If you put it that way, I can't simply do nothing."
At Evans's signal, a hired hunter approached and spread out a map. Evans pointed to several places on the crude drawing.
"These places are hidden trails leading into the Demon Forest."
It was an era where good information was thoroughly privatized and used to consolidate power. To an outsider like Eugene, knowledge of such byways was invaluable, something money alone could not buy.
Evans waited for the mapmaker beside Eugene to copy the details before speaking.
"Not far beyond here, an army of gnolls is said to have risen."
"An army? Not just a single tribe?"
"Yes. For the past six months, they've been showing signs of gathering in large numbers."
Social monsters possessed their own languages and even used crude forms of writing.
However, due to their excessive ferocity, they could not normally band together beyond a certain level.
"In truth, southern Gord was originally land where gnolls settled and thrived. Our ancestors settled and developed it, pushing them back into the Demon Forest."
"Don't tell me they intend to reclaim their homeland?"
"No. Gnolls are savage and dull, but they are not fools."
Evans smiled and waved his hand dismissively.
"They know that human power has grown too strong to overcome. But raiding is a different matter."
"That's also why the three counts gathered to hold a joint tournament. We needed a more intensive New Year Subjugation than usual."
The other knights added to Evans's explanation.
"If the gnolls have risen to the level of an army, isn't it dangerous to move separately like this? Wouldn't we need an army of our own to respond?"
At Eugene's question, the knights laughed.
"Something changed."
"It seems great turmoil occurred in the Demon Forest not long ago."
Something nagged at Eugene's mind, as though a memory were about to surface.
"The great chieftain who had been rallying nearly a thousand gnolls died, and they say the army took heavy losses and splintered."
"Probably internal strife broke out, or they fought an unusually powerful large monster."
As a result, the plan to respond with an army was scrapped in favor of expanding the New Year Subjugation. That was how this entire event had come about.
'Was this because of me?'
Eugene recalled how he had released the monsters contained within the Wandering Castle en masse in the middle of the Demon Forest.
Apparently, the trolls and orcs Eugene had seen—and the gnoll army that had been preparing to invade southern Gord—had all fought a bloody battle.
Evans pointed to a location on the map.
"A gnoll that seems to be the great chieftain's successor has come as far as this area with about a hundred followers."
Occasionally, variants appeared among monsters. It was a phenomenon that occurred especially often among species with short breeding cycles that grouped together, such as goblins, orcs, and gnolls.
These individuals would sometimes gather their kin on a scale normally impossible and cause disasters across a region.
Priests would explain that they were champions sent down by the evil god to spread wickedness in the world.
"Hunters active in the Shield Mountains say it was a colossal gnoll covered in jet-black fur."
"Still, it's just a gnoll, isn't it?"
Eugene had been imagining something like a hobgoblin among goblins.
"It was more than twice the size of other gnolls, and its forearm was like a log, they said. At that level, even a troll would start avoiding it. They didn't raise an army for nothing."
Eugene's eyes sparkled.
Imagining the massive black gnoll, he felt his hunting instincts stir more than any sense of danger.
His palms itched and his mouth watered. It was about time to make his next piece after the Wendigo trophy anyway.