Chapter 108: Stranded (2)
Chapter 108: Stranded (2)
However much the mercenaries were money-crazed bastards driven by self-interest, they had at least a shred of pride.
But the Condor Mercenary Company was an outfit that had thrown away even that last vestige of self-respect.
The commander and the more seasoned veterans never bothered with the customary temple donations or penance that came around every few years.
-You son of a bitch. Rot in hell!
-Haha! Even I figure that's where I'm headed.
It was because they believed they had committed so many sins that they could never end up anywhere good once they died anyway.
Even hardened scoundrels like them had to admit the dark elf women defending the abandoned temple had them beaten.
"Vicious bitches."
The mercenary company captain, Jerico, spat curses as he stared at the temple's stone walls.
Warfare in this era could be summed up in a single word: 'chaos.' Complex tactical maneuvers were the stuff of stories.
Once a battle began, no one could even gauge who was winning. They simply swarmed after the enemy in front of them, and when the warriors to either side fell, fear made them backpedal until the formation crumbled.
Faced with the swords and bolts threatening their own lives in the moment, no one had the composure to calmly survey their surroundings.
Even nobles in fine armor with escorts around them suffered from that problem. Ordinary warriors stood even less chance.
But the women defending the temple showed none of that weakness. Even the rank and file kept track of the battlefield as a whole.
-You bastards! Focus on the right, now... Ghk!
-Crossbowmen, over there... Aagh!
In the chaos of battle, the moment a mercenary appeared to be giving orders, concentrated fire immediately came his way.
"Cough."
"Ughh."
As a result, the decurions and centurions who were supposed to lead their men lay groaning on all sides.
They were not weaklings who would die from a single arrow, but the problem was that those arrows had been coated in poison.
"Captain, there is nothing we can do for them."
The medic who had been inspecting the wounded shook his head.
Though he had dropped out, he had studied medicine at the Roman Academy and was a valuable specialist treated well within the mercenary company.
"The poison is far more vicious than I anticipated."
"Isn't there anything you can do? We've got all sorts of antidotes ourselves, don't we?"
The Condor Mercenary Company was the sort to drug new recruits and send them charging in if the situation called for it.
Being from Samur, they also did not hesitate to use poison themselves and carried a variety of poisons and antidotes.
"If we had treated them immediately, or at least cut out the wounded flesh, they might have lived. It is far too late now."
"Damn it."
Cunningly, the warrior women used ordinary arrows against common mercenaries. But the moment a mid-level officer came into view, they switched to poisoned arrows and sniped them.
-Sub-commander!
-It's fine, you lot. It was just a graze.
Seeing their comrades quickly recovering as long as they avoided vital spots, even the senior officers never considered the possibility of poisoned arrows.
The result: they treated only the surface wounds and failed to administer the antidote in time, collapsing one after another.
Ordinary soldiers could simply have been abandoned, but losing this many veterans—the backbone of the company—would cause serious trouble later.
"What sort of temple is built this damn solid?"
"It was probably expanded during the chaotic final years of the Ancient Kingdom. Temple looting was rampant nationwide then, so followers of minor faiths fortified their own strongholds."
"I was just griping, you tactless little bastard. You don't need to explain every single thing."
"Ah, yes."
At Jerico's snapped rebuke, the medic shut his mouth.
The temple's grounds were as broad as a village, built in terraced levels ascending upward.
The surrounding stone walls stood a mere three meters high, but they were walls nonetheless. With dark elf warrior women garrisoned there, the difficulty had skyrocketed to that of a proper siege.
"Show them mercy."
Jerico let out a sigh and gave the order.
"P-please, spare..."
"Uughh."
Half of the dying mercenaries wore faces pleading for their lives; the other half wore faces rejoicing that their agony was at an end.
The men dragged those afflicted by the poison away and struck off their heads with a single stroke.
"Captain. You absolutely must not give up."
Seeing the grim expression on Jerico's face as he watched the scene, one of the centurions spoke up.
"Do you think I'm crazy? You expect me to go back empty-handed? We don't need to attack. Just keep the encirclement tight."
"Exactly. They are low on food and have no water. If we wait a little longer, they will collapse on their own."
The water channel inside the temple had lost its function after being neglected for so long. Repairing it during battle was impossible. Food aside, an army without water could never hold out.
Outnumbered as they were, the fatigue accumulated from the ongoing skirmishes and night watch duties would also be considerable.
"If we retreat from here, the name of Condor itself will weep."
"We'll have to strip every last one of those bitches naked and drag them off by the hair before my anger settles."
Jerico felt reassured by his men, who ground their teeth in a mixture of fury, greed, and lechery. For now, their resentment was still directed at the enemy before them rather than at him.
'If I come away from this without results, my own position will be in danger.'
Since the Mercenary Company was a collection of the worst scum, a commander could easily end up with a knife in his back at the slightest misstep. With sacrifices having mounted to this degree, he had no choice but to ensure this operation succeeded.
Just as the Condor Mercenary Company had expected, the women defending the temple were in dire condition.
Their beauty, which had captivated countless mercenaries even on the battlefield and lived up to their people's reputation as a race of beauty, had faded.
Their hair was all ragged and brittle, their lips cracked and peeling from dehydration.
Grrr.
Grrrrrr.
Hungry stomachs growled all around them.
But not a single face showed any thought of surrender. The more dire the situation grew, the fiercer the venom burning in their eyes became.
"Don't waste a single drop!"
Cassandra, a centurion of the opposition faction, gave the order to her subordinates.
It would have been a relief if it had been water, but even the drinking water they had been carefully rationing had run dry two days ago.
Trickle.
The only thing they could still collect was urine. But even that had reached its limit.
They had used up every purifying medicine, and after going so long without water, even their urine had grown too concentrated. Sheer grit was no longer enough to force it down.
She recalled the conversation she had shared with Rex before departing from Roman.
-You want to entrust the future of our clan to a human? Rex, are you out of your mind?
-I am perfectly sound of mind. Are you not the one attempting to embark on a great march across the deserts and jungles of Samur?
-It is far better than staking our destiny on some magic castle of unknown nature. A leader who follows emotion over reason will lead the tribe to ruin.
-The attitude of seeking a way forward within a reality we can comprehend is not a bad one.
-Then what in the world is the problem?
-Because sometimes, the path of reality proves more fantastical than any fantasy.
The only thing stronger than Cassandra's martial prowess and pride was her ambition.
When the tribe's opinions split over the interpretation of the prophecy, she had seen it as an opportunity.
Cassandra, the youngest centurion, intended to use the prophecy to gather more followers and build a larger power base within the clan in the future.
When the ever-cool-headed Sub-Chieftain Rex, as if bewitched by something, joined hands with old Marbas and started chanting about a Wandering Castle, she had inwardly rejoiced.
But then the ancient castle, which she had believed to be mere legend, genuinely manifested in the world, and the mood of the tribe changed in an instant.
"Damn it all."
Once she was alone, Cassandra quietly spat out a curse.
'I should never have come here.'
Though she maintained a dignified air before her subordinates, inside, Cassandra cursed her past self. It was because she knew full well that the situation was utterly hopeless.
"Without the Wandering Castle, we could never have mounted a rescue in time."
"We would have had to cross vast jungle and desert. You simply cannot travel through this land unless you follow the established routes."
Rex and Eugene marveled at the Samur terrain they had previously known only from stories.
"To be able to move while ignoring water sources — this is the dream of every cavalry commander."
Haind, too, was in awe at the situation that defied the common sense he had learned during his knightly instruction.
Cavalry was a powerful weapon, but one with just as many constraints. The outstanding mobility often associated with cavalry could, surprisingly, only be demonstrated in limited circumstances.
This was because, while infantry could break through rough terrain with water in their canteens, cavalry could not. Warhorses, which drank more than ten times the water of a human, absolutely had to move with a water source at hand.
Historically, the battles where infantry commanders won great victories against cavalry were largely due to how easy it was to predict the enemy's route of advance.
"Centurion Cassandra is someone our clan simply cannot afford to lose. Thank you once again."
"Is she truly that capable?"
"Her ability is part of it, but her status matters even more. One side of her bloodline comes from a high-ranking power outside the clan, so Cassandra herself is a symbol of that alliance."
It was not uncommon for blood to mix between dark elf tribes.
"If she warrants this much concern from you, the tribe she comes from must be a large one?"
"To be precise, it is a kingdom—the strongest of the branches that chose to settle in the mountains instead of living as wanderers."
Eugene was surprised.
"I've known you for quite some time now, but I've never heard mention of a dark elf kingdom."
"Because it is a self-proclaimed kingdom. By actual power it only barely qualifies as a small kingdom, but by population it is the largest of all the tribes."
Rex showed Eugene the composite bow he was holding.
"The materials for this composite bow came from them as well. Their settled way of life leaves them weaker in battle, but no one can replace them when it comes to producing raw materials and processing them."
"So that is how a mere centurion managed to bring her unit all the way down here."
"It has also made her extremely forceful. There have been plenty of times I wanted to give her a good smack and had to stop myself."
Her temper must have been famous, as the nearby tribal warriors also wore wry smiles.
"Even the chieftain has thrown up both hands in surrender."
"If only she were incompetent instead..."
"Yet, among the warrior women, she commands great respect and has many who follow her."
Rex, having drawn his horse closer, whispered.
"To be honest, I had hoped Cassandra would fail in this operation. Her stubbornness and standing would have weakened that much. But I never wished for it to end up like this."
Dark elves were few enough already. Throwing away nearly a hundred warrior women over internal clan politics would have been absurd.
Rex had hoped to welcome Cassandra back when she returned bedraggled and trudging along in defeat.
"Is that the temple they spoke of? The scale is certainly large. The defenses look sturdy as well."
"Fortunately, there appears to be no damage."
In the distance, a large, old temple and the mercenaries surrounding it came into view. It seemed they were maintaining the siege in a lull without engaging in combat.
"Well then, shall we see just how fierce a lady she is, as you say?"
"I don't think you'll have much trouble dealing with her, Sir Knight."
"Hm? Why is that?"
"I have to be mindful of her backing, but you, Sir Knight, do not, is that not so?"
"I also pay plenty of mind to those in power, you know."
"Even aside from that, it is just a feeling. Some people simply have good or bad chemistry with each other."
They could see the enemy rearguard beginning to panic as it noticed the approaching cavalry.
When Eugene raised his X-shaped composite bow, everyone focused their gaze upon him. Its draw weight was exceptionally strong, giving it a range far longer than anyone else's.
An arrow was loosed at the commander-level mercenary in the rearguard, the only one mounted and shouting orders.
WHOOOSH!
The arrow flew with an abnormal shriek and punched straight through the mounted officer's upper body, leaving his corpse slumped over the horse.
"Waaaaah!"
"Charge! Charge!"
Galvanized by the splendid signal shot announcing the start of battle, the relief force surged forward and crashed into the enemy's rear.
Jerico scowled when the wandering knight who had gone out to scout did not return.
"Why is that bastard Theon so late?"
"Could he not have simply bolted?"
"That is absolutely not it."
Even calling him a wandering knight was generous. Theon was really a bandit knight who had been stripped of his title and exiled.
Still, his skill alone was of a different caliber than the common mercenaries, and being of the same ilk, he was easy to do dirty work with, so they had gotten along reasonably well.
"A fellow who was always going on about elves could never let an opportunity like this slip by."
"Well, he is entertaining to listen to."
Even in the lecherous Condor Mercenary Company, his obsession with women stood in a class of its own.
The filthy stories he spewed at meals and on the march alike were practically a Condor specialty.
However, there was one thing he left out of those tales: elf women.
From bribing an adventurer he had happened to come across, to arranging introductions with slave traders, he had been the most zealous in laying the groundwork.
"Still, he's too late. Did he perhaps lose his way?"
"Or perhaps he encountered a monster."
Having stumbled close to the answer by chance, they soon learned the true reason.
"Ambush!"
"Spears and shields! Spears and shields!"
Urgent shouts rang out from the rear, and chaos erupted.
"Has a relief force come?"
"How could that be possible? You mean they have already crossed that desert and jungle?"
Jerico and the centurions were all thrown into confusion. The battle unfolding here was meant to be the most covert fight in the world.
By the time the Black Hand Mercenary Company could grasp the situation, everything should have already been over.
"It is a mixed force of humans and dark elves!"
But at the report of the messenger who had rushed over in haste, they could no longer deny reality.
"Their numbers?"
"Close to two hundred. All cavalry!"
"What?!"
Yet that next report was the hardest to believe. This region simply could not support a cavalry force of that size.
Moments later, however, piercing screams, pounding hoofbeats, and the sounds of bodies being smashed rang out with brutal clarity. They had no choice but to believe it.
The battle ended quickly.
They were pinned in front of a solid stone wall and had never imagined cavalry would strike them from the rear.
When knights and heavy cavalry charged and arrows poured down upon the defenseless rearguard, the result was devastating.
"There's another one crawling over there."
Eugene's men searched sharply among the corpses strewn everywhere.
"No! Please! Pleeease!"
The Condor mercenary, who had been begging while lying prone, was soon silenced with the sound of rending flesh.
"I surrender!"
"Spare my life, I beg you! I will do anything you command!"
Mercenaries with arrows lodged all over their bodies knelt or lay collapsed, clasping their hands together and pleading. It was likely the first prayer any of them had offered since joining the Condor Mercenary Company.
"When they beg like that, they make us look like the villains."
The heavy infantrymen, holding bloodied swords, glanced at one another and shrugged.
"Please..."
A mercenary, who had crept up at some point, clutched a soldier's trouser leg and begged.
"Hey. You see that?"
The heavy infantryman crouched down, grabbed the mercenary by the hair, and turned his head in one direction.
It was the temple that, until just this morning, they had been gleefully eyeing like fruit about to drop.
The spears and arrows that had bristled outward were gone, and the entrance that had been firmly shut stood wide open.
Cassandra and her warrior women, now assured of their rescue, were dismantling their fortifications and descending.
"Our Sir Knight—no, our Castle Lord—is generous, but taking care of his own people comes first."
"If those ladies demand we hand you over, there's no way he'd refuse. If you were sons of noble houses who could pay a ransom, maybe, but since you're not..."
The warrior women descending with demon-like faces were intimidating enough to overwhelm even their allies.
"Wouldn't you rather die cleanly by our hands? From the look of them, those women don't intend to give you an easy death."
"..."
Even the Condor mercenary who had been desperately begging for his life fell speechless. This was no joking matter.
Stories of the Black Hand Mercenary Company's brutal methods were famous and varied. Every mercenary in the trade knew at least one or two to tell over drinks.
But human nature clung to even one more second of life. He simply could not force the words "Please, just kill me" out of his throat.
"Waaaaah!"
"Hnnng..."
In the end, what came forth was only a wail of remorse. Tears and lamentation born from the realization that they were truly and utterly fucked.
"There are none who succeeded in escaping."
"Well done."
Eugene nodded at Haind's report after the latter returned from leading the detached force in pursuit.
Around that time, his eyes met Cassandra's, who had come out in front of the temple to greet them.